Never Far From Me
by forgottenfreedoms
Summary: "I saved lives. The irony always glared back at me. I saved lives while slowly erasing any semblance of the life that I once had. But now wasn't the time for that. There was never a time to consider the past. The past was a dark remembrance of why I was here. It was for the best, I told myself once again..."
1. Almost Forgotten

**A/N: Hello everyone! I've finally got something new for you here. Sorry for the huge gap, I've been trying to keep my head above water with school and wasn't able to find the time to make much headway with this.**

**I've still got a major admissions test next week though but I'm hoping to have the next chapter up by next Saturday.**

**Once again, brand new story here. No ties to any of my past ones despite any coincidences here and there because of where my knowledge base exists and what fit in best with the story.**

**Without further ado…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect. If you haven't figured that out yet… Well…**

I had finally hit it. I had finally hit the point where I was too exhausted to sit for even a few minutes without falling asleep. It wasn't the first time in my life I had come to this, I was a surgeon after all. I had gone through medical school and shuffled through the days of my residency where sleep was simply a contrived and distant memory.

But I was an attending now and, quite honestly, much too old for this shit.

After spending the past four hours in the OR, I had taken a seat in a plush office chair to fill in the chart detailing the surgery. My eyes fluttered in an attempt to stay awake. Then suddenly, my blinks became more about the closing action than the opening.

I was battling to stay conscious, nodding off only to catch myself before my head slammed into the desk beneath it. After having to reread a line in my notes several times and still not comprehending it, I forced myself to stand up.

Abandoning the empty and distraction free room, I walked over to the busy nurse's station, planting my feet in front of the high counter. I picked up where I left off, welcoming the hustle and bustle around me as it kept me from drifting off. For the time being, at least.

It was a losing battle, of course, and I already knew that. I told myself that I would get through this paperwork and take a power nap.

It was unfortunate that was all I had to look forward to. There wasn't a soft and warm, plush bed I could fall into for the next twelve hours. There were only the crappy twin beds in the on-call room with their lumpy pillows and too starched sheets. And even that was only for a couple of hours or until my pager inevitably drew me from sleep.

I heaved a heavy sigh, contemplating why exactly I had decided to be a doctor again. Was it the long hours that pulled me in? The lack of social life that resulted? Or maybe the fact that I had spent almost my entire life in school to work towards this position?

Realistically, I knew the true reason. The true reason tied with the rush that could be found each and every time I held a scalpel in my hand.

I saved lives. The irony always glared back at me. I saved lives while slowly erasing any semblance of the life that I once had.

But now wasn't the time for that. There was never a time to consider the past. The past was a dark remembrance of why I was here.

_It was for the best,_ I told myself once again.

Because that's what my life consisted of: making decisions to better the lives of those around me while never considering how truly neglected that left my own life.

"Dr. Mitchell, there was a man on the phone asking for you," one of the nurses grabbed my attention. I raised my head warily, spotting Karen, one of the new hires in a scrub coat with dogs on it.

I had never really understood those. Sure, they were practical in peds, but this was emergency medicine. This was fast-paced and break-neck situations. This was blood and guts and snap decisions. This was the front lines of medicine. There was no room for puppies on the front line of medicine.

I had always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie, probably what had brought me to my chosen specialty of trauma surgery in the first place. But I wasn't sure how Karen had found herself here.

She was new and fresh-faced out of college. She walked in with a smile on her face and left with what seemed to be the exact same smile fixed to her lips.

You could see it. You could look into her eyes and still see the wide-eyed innocence, the same wide-eyed innocence it was almost impossible to remember every veteran in the department had once waltzed in with.

"You were in surgery so I gave him your cell number," she told me, her voice cheerful while tapped away on the computer's keyboard with the bottom of her flower pen. Flower pen? What was this, the dentist's office?

"You gave him my cell number?" I arched an eyebrow as she ceased her motions. She slowly lifted her eyes to where I was propped in front of the desk.

"Yeah," she said confidently, her expression falling upon noticing my less than impressed reaction. "Was that something I wasn't supposed to do?"

I gave her an incredulous look. She was acting like this was a common practice in the department or something. "Well, who was it?"

"He didn't say," she replied shortly.

I squared my shoulders in her direction. "Was he a doctor, a patient, someone from the lab," she shook at her head at each of the suggestions. "Well, was he a serial killer?"

"I don't… I don't know," she stuttered out and I almost felt a little bad for her before remembering she had given my personal cell phone number out to some random person without asking for credentials or even a name.

"You don't know, but you decided to give him my cell phone number?" I queried, hoping the stupidity of the situation would wash over her.

"I, erm, I won't, uh, I won't do it again," she said, her eyes cast downward toward her shoes.

I rolled my eyes at her, "You damn well better not. This hospital isn't a dating service. You don't just give out doctors' numbers to any person that asks for them."

She nodded shortly before scurrying off. I glared at the miniature dogs on the back of her scrub coat and turned my attention back to the chart I wasn't anywhere near finishing. A light laughter reached my ears, its owner closing in on where I stood.

"What crawled up your ass today?" She asked, placing two fresh cups of coffee on the counter next to me.

I drew my eyes up to see my best friend untying her scrub cap and shoving it into her lab coat pocket. She pushed one of the coffees in front of me. I nodded in thanks, bringing it to my lips, wincing when it was too hot. I was always too impatient to wait until it was cool enough.

"A GSW from a replica circa the civil war era and two men who decided to play catch with a nail gun," I replied shortly, ignoring the amused look on her face as she blew over the rim of her coffee.

"What are you even still doing here? I thought Davis was supposed to be in for you like four hours ago?" She asked, pulling out a chart of her own and beginning to document what must have been the surgery she had just come from.

"Davis' wife went into labor conveniently five minutes before his shift was supposed to begin," I sullenly informed her, setting the coffee back down and watching her do the same.

She laughed, "Oh yeah, because women can completely control that. He probably asked her to hold off until just the right moment to land you in a double."

"Triple," I corrected.

"Sorry?" Her eyes flicked up from her chart.

"I'm currently on hour twenty-two of what is shaping up to be a lovely 32 hour shift," I said with a saccharine grin in her direction. "Davis' wife is in labor and Sanders is in the Florida Keys. So, being the only available attending trauma surgeon on staff I get the privilege of working a 32."

"Geez Mitchell, it's no wonder you looked about ready to kill that nurse," she said, sympathetically giving my shoulder a short pat. "What was all that about anyways?"

I sighed, shifting my stance so I was facing her. "That nurse just informed me that a random man called for me while I was removing six nails from an idiot's chest. Instead of asking for a number or a name, she simply gave him my cell phone number."

"What community college did they pull this trainee out of?" She asked casually.

It was part of the reason we got along so well. She didn't mince her words. If I had met her at any other time in my life, I was almost positive that we wouldn't have gotten along. She was harsh some of the time and abrasive almost all of the time.

I doubted any former version of myself would have seen eye to eye with her. But now… Now I needed the honesty. I needed the clear-cut comments and straight forward answers. Over the past year that we had been working together we had become quick friends. And I valued her honesty.

"I can rest easy now that the great Aubrey Posen has approved of my actions," I sarcastically shot back.

Aubrey was one of the most promising cardiothoracic surgeons of her generation. The idea that Aubrey Posen choosing a hospital like High Point Regional for her residency had to be one of the most confounding decisions in the history of medicine. She was from a long line of surgeons. The Posen name was synonymous with a higher standard of care.

Her grandfather was a surgeon in the war and settled back to open his own practice upon returning, both of her grandmothers were retired RNs, her father was arguably one of the best neurosurgeons of all time. He pioneered many of the procedures that are considered common place today. Her mother was also a neurosurgeon although she was more involved in clinical trials. Her team was the first to pioneer endoscopic tumor removal leading to less invasive procedures and a highly desirable minimal infection rate.

It was assumed that when the two wed and had a child she would follow in their footsteps. Posens were brain surgeons and why would this be any different. So when she entered into Harvard Medical School as a first year and told each of her professors she was interested in cardiothoracic surgery, there were small ripples in the medical community.

When she denied the offers from Johns Hopkins, Mass General, and Mayo for one at High Point Regional Hospital in North Carolina there were waves. She told me choosing cardio and High Point were her acts of rebellion. They were, in fact, the only rebellious acts she deemed acceptable since they still protected her career.

She truly had her choice of any hospital in the country and any program for that matter, but she chose High Point for the chance to work under a cardio legend named Dr. William Wilkins.

Wilkins took her under his wing and helped her prime her skills. When Wilkins retired shortly after appointing Aubrey to an attending position, there was hardly any transition period for the department. She seamlessly picked up where he left off performing at a level most first year attendings could only dream of.

"I prefer Posen the Great, MD, but I'll let it slip this one time." I rolled my eyes in her general direction. "Who was the guy anyways?"

"I don't know. Hasn't called or anything yet and nurse no brain over there didn't ask for a call back number," I told her.

Aubrey hummed out a response. "Speaking of not calling, are you ever going to call Peter to set up that date?"

"Posen, I've already told you a million times: I'm not going on a blind date. I'm not going on any date for that matter." I emphasized my point with a firm, "Period."

"Oh come on, Mitchell. You've been here almost a year and I know for a fact you haven't gotten any since you basically live in the hospital and have dodged every one of my attempts to set you up," she tersely told me.

"You know if you spent a little more time focusing on your own love life instead of trying to orchestrate the resurrection of mine, you might not be single right now," I reminded her, my eyes fixed on the chart in front of me.

She huffed. "I am single by choice at the moment. I have taken a sabbatical from the dating world to become more in touch with myself."

I gave her a look, waggling my eyebrows before shooting her a smirk.

"Not like that, you perv," she squeaked out indignantly.

"Hey," I started, holding my hands in front of me in surrender, "I'm not the one who wants to 'become more _in touch_ with myself…'"

She paused, thoughtful for a moment. "There was probably a better way to phrase that, wasn't there?"

"Probably," I agreed, flipping to the lab section on the chart in front of me. "You do know there are plenty of men in this very hospital who would very much enjoy helping you make that solo activity a duet. Perhaps a certain male nurse..."

She sneered at me, "I am not- That is not- That man-" I laughed as she tripped over her words. "No. Just no."

"Oh c'mon Posen, why not?" I queried. "He's a good guy and you've been saying that all you do is date jerks. That man would treat you like a queen," I provided, a light lilt to my words.

She rolled her eyes at me, "_Please_. That man, and I use that word very loosely, is more interested in sleeping with me than having a substantial relationship."

"It wouldn't hurt for you to go on a single date with him," I interjected.

"Go ahead and ask some of his past conquests if that's the case. You weren't here back when he was working his way through the entire float pool of nurses," she argued before holding her head high in a truly Posen fashion and straightening her posture before telling me, "Besides, I am _not _dating a male nurse."

Her arguments weren't without merit. He was a male nurse. I had heard the rumors when I first arrived and he did have a bit of a reputation of being a man-whore. In his defense ever since he had started pursuing Aubrey, he had kept his scrub pants firmly tied at the waist. It was sweet, in a way. If he remained persistent, I think he might actually get through. I was rooting for him, really.

"I'm perfectly happy functioning on my own. I don't need anyone else."

"We both know that's just bullshit single people say when they've given up on the likelihood of finding a decent human being," I leveled with her.

"Is that why you won't go on the dates I have taken the little free time I possess to set you up on?" She countered.

"No," I told her shortly, wishing very much for the conversation to end. "It isn't."

"Then what's the reason? C'mon Mitchell, give me one good reason why you won't go on any of the guys I've tried to set you up with," she urged at the same moment a sharp beeping broke through the air.

I reached instinctively for my pager, pulling it to eye level but not seeing it flashing. I looked over to see Aubrey glaring at the one in her hand. Her gaze flicked to mine as she gathered the chart up in front of her.

"My thoracotomy patient is crashing. The hell if I spent the afternoon with my hand in his chest for him to die on me now," she said offhandedly. She began walking backwards, throwing what was meant to be an intimidating hand gesture in my direction before turning back around, "Don't think this conversation is over."

I let my gaze drop back to the papers in front of me.

The words began to meld together and I knew it was time for a break. I pulled the chart with me as I navigated the busy hospital halls with my head down. I wasn't in the mood to interact with my many coworkers for the time being.

I slipped into the on-call room and let out a breath realizing I had the room all to myself. I shrugged out of my lab coat, laying it across the chair in front of the beds.

Then I settled into the bottom bunk and let the exhaustion from the shift overtake me, quickly pulling me to a dream world where 32 hour shifts didn't exist.

It felt as though I had only just closed my eyes when a beeping tore my eyes open. I threw my hand blindly toward where my lab coat lay. I reached into its pockets pulling both my phone and my pager free. Upon a quick perusal I realized it was my phone and not my pager. I swiped at the touch screen without another look to the caller.

I answered with a cursory, "Dr. Mitchell."

_"Erm, hey_," a male's voice replied. I pulled the phone from my ear to look at the screen. It was a number I didn't recognize. _"This is Dr. Mitchell, the trauma attending at High Point Regional Hospital in North Carolina?"_

"This is. Listen, I'm not sure what you said to convince our nursing staff that giving out my number was protocol, but I can assure you that if this is some sort of a prank I can and will have your number blocked," I cut the pleasantries.

_"No, no! It's not a prank or anything,"_ he nervously laughed out. The laugh was familiar, I furrowed my brow.

"Who is this?"

_"It's Benji,"_ the man replied and I pressed my hand into my forehead, not knowing why I hadn't recognized the voice earlier. _"Benji Applebaum."_ He waited a second. When I didn't say anything, he continued, _"You know, from Barden._" Another pause._ "Where you went for undergrad?"_

I let out a short laugh, "I'm familiar with the place I went to undergrad and I know who you are Benji."

He let out a bitter laugh. "_Sorry, it's just surprising is all. I would have thought you had forgotten about all of us by now." _I sucked in a breath, my lungs tightening at his words as the anxiety built. _"You just left. You left her and maybe you were too busy thinking of yourself to realize you left the rest of us here too."_

"What do you want, Benji?" I breathed out, certain I didn't like where this conversation was heading.

_"Sorry, I… I, erm, I didn't call for that reason," _he apologetically started, sounding more like the boy I used to know. _"I found your number months ago and I guess I didn't really see a reason to use it. I mean, by the time I found it, it was clear you didn't want to be found and she was finally starting to get back on track. I guess I just… filed it away…"_

"And you're using it now…?" I prompted, keeping my tone purposefully light.

_"She's in town, well, she's in your town at least, the town the hospital you work at is in," _he rushed out and I felt my blood run cold at the knowledge he relayed to me.

Did she know I was here? Did she come here because I was here?

_"She doesn't know," _he told me as if reading my mind. _"If that's what you're wondering. I haven't told her where you are. I mean, I should have, but I haven't."_

"She's here for work then?" I asked.

_"Yes, she's there for work. Got in this morning and will be there for the next couple of days."_

"Benji, why are you telling me this?" I asked, genuinely curious why he was sharing the information.

"_Because… because when you left I thought she was gone for good too. I thought she would never be the same. There were months where she could hardly get out of bed, but now…. Now she's getting better. But I know that there's still something she needs and it's something that only you can give her."_

He paused, letting his words sink in for a moment before continuing, "_Closure. She needs closure and you're the only one that can give it to her. You left without another word and without any kind of forwarding address or anything. The next day your phone was deactivated and through it all…" _He paused again,_ "I just, she needs closure. And even if you don't deserve it, I think you need closure too…"_

He sighed into the speaker as I imagined him running a hand through his hair in that Benji-esque manner that caused it to stand hopelessly on end.

"_If you loved her half of what you made her believe, you'd give her that."_

His words had the desired effect: my voice caught in my throat, my heart dropped to my stomach. This was exactly why I didn't dwell in the past. This was exactly why I couldn't even think of it.

"I don't have her number," I said in a small voice.

He let out a bitter laugh, _"I think we both know that you do. If you lost every other person's number from the place you used to call home, you'd still have hers. Just call her."_

"Benji, I-" But he was already gone. I dropped my phone onto the bed beside me, dropping my head into my hands. I was exhausted, completely and utterly exhausted. And now I had to think about this? It hardly seemed fair.

_"If you loved her half of what you made her believe, you'd give her that."_

His words echoed around my head. I grabbed my phone from beside me and hastily clicked to contacts. I scrolled down, finding her name all too easily in my short contact list.

He was right, of course.

When I went in for a new phone and number, there was only one number I had asked to be transferred. I wasn't too sure why I had kept it. There were those moments of weakness where I scroll down to her number and just pretend for a moment that I could allow myself to do it. I would pretend that I could call her and everything would be back to normal.

But I couldn't. I couldn't do that.

My thumb hesitated over her name, almost tapping down several times before I gave a frustrated sigh and tossed my phone back into my lab coat. My pager began vibrating and beeping loudly. I reached for it, rising to my feet.

Sliding my lab coat on, I ventured out of the on-call room. Making my way down to the emergency department I walked up to the nurse's station.

"I got a page," I said simply.

"That would be from me," I heard a voice say from the corner of the desk. I turned, rolling my eyes when I saw a man in scrubs leaning against the wall there, a Styrofoam container in his hands. "Well if it isn't my very favorite doctor in the whole emergency department…"

"What do you want, Jesse?" I cut him off, holding up a hand.

He placed a hand to his chest and scoffed, "Dr. Mitchell, I am shocked and appalled that you think the only reason I would page you was if I wanted something." He dramatically added, "_Shocked_ and _appalled_.

"You know I could have called you for a patient, one of my patients. I am here as a professional. I didn't become a male nurse to be disrespected for anything other than my gender in a female dominated profession," he proclaimed.

I rolled my eyes again, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "There's no patient, is there?"

"Nope," he shook his head shortly, beckoning me closer. "But I did get you a sandwich from your favorite deli down the road when I was on break."

I cast a suspicious glance at him, warily reaching forward for the box in his hands. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," he handed me the box.

"Oh, there's totally a catch," I surmised, opening the box's lid to notice he had actually gotten my order right. By the looks of it, he had gotten it right down to the last extra pickle, dressing on the side. I was mildly impressed.

"No catch. But _maybe_…" He began, stretching the word out.

_Oh here we go, _I thought.

"Maybe you could begin to casually mention how caring I am to the other attendings," he offered. "Just in passing… Casually."

I snorted out a laugh, raising an eyebrow at him. He was so obvious. "Any doctors in particular you want me to _casually_ mention this to?"

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, you know, maybe a certain cardiothoracic attending with killer legs and a stunning smile. Or, you know, anyone else too."

I laughed at him, throwing a quick, "Thanks for the meal, Jesse," his way before walking away.

"Wait!" I heard his voice call from behind me, "Does this mean you'll do it?"

I chuckled under my breath and made no attempt to reply looking very much forward to having a little bit of alone time with the delicious sandwich in my hands.

I think he might actually have a chance with Aubrey if he was putting in enough effort to bring me into his attempts at winning her over.

I cut a right into the nearest breakroom and pried open the lid on the box. The smell immediately caused my mouth to water.

_When was the last time that I had eaten?_

I realized I actually couldn't remember. In medical school you were always told again and again how you were supposed to eat a solid meal before going to the hospital. It was easier to keep your composure and not lose the contents of your stomach when you had something in there. After working so long in the field, there wasn't much that threw me anymore. I could see an evisceration and barely blink.

Some people call veterans of medicine cold and unfeeling for losing that instinct to run away from the blood and guts. I liked to think of it as a form of evolution. We had evolved past it so we could help others survive it.

I couldn't deny how hungry I was now that I was allowing myself to acknowledge it. I licked my lips as I picked the sandwich up. Opening my mouth, I brought the sandwich closer.

My pager went off before I could even take a bite. I resisted the urge to bang my head against the table when I noticed the emergent quality of the code my pager was showing. This was incoming and it was bad. I folded the sandwich back in its box and slipped it into the fridge in the room before taking off back toward the emergency department.

I followed the flock of nurses back towards the ambulance entrance and pulled a gown from the container there. Tying the back up, I walked over to the emergency doctor on shift.

Dr. Kaler was one of the most experienced doctors on staff having spent the better part of twenty years in internal medicine before transferring to the emergency department. She was adjusting her glasses when I approached.

"What've we got?" I asked, slipping on a pair of gloves.

"MVC involving a car and a semi. Two patients, one from each. The drunk truck driver fell asleep and rolled right through a red. T-boned the car, poor girl never had a chance to stop it," she informed me, shaking her head as she spoke about the driver.

"And I'll bet he barely has a scratch on him," I replied, securing my gown into place, having realized that I had missed one of the ties in back.

"Possible fracture for him and probably a concussion, but we'll need all hands on for the girl," Dr. Kaler calmly informed me as the sound of impending ambulance sirens closed in. Two ambulances approached in a flurry of lights and sounds.

I matched Kaler's stride toward the first ambulance which came screeching to a halt, the driver tearing to the back and swinging the doors open. Looking in, I saw his partner with one hand trying to control a bleed and the other performing ventilations through the already established tube in the patient's throat.

"We've got a female patient, any identification she might have had is still in the wreck."

"Was she wearing any jewelry? Any allergy alert bracelets?" Kaler asked, aware the difficulties lack of identification could provide in situations as severe as this.

"Nothing besides a necklace," the medic shook her head.

Dr. Kaler asked for vitals which the paramedic quickly began listing in a practiced manner. My mind caught the important numbers and trends as I surveyed what I could see of the patient.

_She was small_, I thought as they pulled the stretcher out of the ambulance. She couldn't have been taller than 5'2" and she looked quite thin. Her neck was in a c-collar and she was strapped to the board where she lay completely emotionless. Her brunette hair fanned out around her, trapped beneath the foam blocks holding her head in place.

My eyes surveyed her face as we began to walk her into the emergency department. Her face was unrecognizable from what it must have been, lacerations and swelling telling the story of trauma that had been inflicted. Her shoulder was bent at an unnatural angle and there was gauze stained red directly below it on her chest. The paramedic's gloved hand was pressing down, fighting a losing battle to stop the bleed.

Metal stuck out, sharp from her quad on her right leg, gauze padded carefully around it and a tourniquet tied expertly above it. A femoral bleed. That wasn't a good sign.

We angled the stretcher into the nearest open room, immediately transferring patient to the hospital bed on the call of the paramedic. We moved quickly from there, me to the head and Kaler to the chest bleed since the tourniquet was controlling the blood flow in the leg. A nurse took over respirations and the paramedics moved their equipment out of the way and out of the room.

I pulled a penlight from my pocket, and peeled open her lids. Shining the light there I noted the unequal pupils and lack of reactivity to light surrounded by a deep blue cornea. A concussion, if she was lucky it would only be a concussion. Thankfully neither pupil was blown or overly constricted, yet. She would need a CT immediately to confirm that she wasn't bleeding out in her skull.

"What have you got up there, Mitchell?" Kaler asked as I palpated the area around the head after carefully removing the head blocks.

I looked up, watching as she cut away the patient's clothing with a pair of trauma shears while trying to locate the source of the bleed. "A pretty nasty concussion I would say, multiple lacerations to the face. Glass shards embedded in the lacerations," I moved down to the neck, removing the collar with a nurse's help. I felt along the neck, no bones clear and out of place. "No obvious fractures in the cervical vertebrae. Will need an X-ray to confirm. I'd like a CT as well, stat. Pupils haven't blown yet but they're unreactive and unequal. Tracheal deviation to the left."

She nodded, her eyes fixed on the task at hand. "I've got a sucking chest wound here. Sal, page cardio, and neuro. Someone get Dr. Mitchell a chest tube. Medics suspected a tension pneumothorax, I'd confirm."

I moved swiftly to Kaler's side taking the offered chest tube and prepping the area with iodine solution. A nurse tied a mask around my face from behind me. I moved with practiced hands, making the proper cuts and inserting the tube in with little problem. I removed stopper just as Aubrey entered the door.

"Stealing my job now, are you Mitchell?"

I smiled beneath my mask, taping the tube in place, "This is only temporary, Posen. You ought to know that. She'll still need your magic touch to repair the damage done to her chest."

Aubrey leaned down, listening to breath sounds on the left side of the patient's chest. Her hand pushed the fabric of the patient's tattered clothes aside to get a clearer listen. As she did such, she exposed the top of a blue and white patterned bruise on the patient's shoulder.

The smile slipped off my lips as I walked around the table to get a closer look. My hands traced the coloring there, finding it to be engrained in the skin there.

It wasn't a bruise, it was a tattoo. My finger traced the pattern there.

"Dr. Mitchell?" I heard a distant voice addressing me, but ignored it, my eyes already panning down to find a delicate scar on the patient's abdomen.

_It couldn't be._

I scanned to the patient's right arm, another tattoo standing out against the pale, blood stained skin there.

I shook my head.

_No… No, this kind of thing didn't happen._

"Dr. Mitchell?"

My feet moved swiftly toward the door. I pulled my gloves free, tossing them into a hazard container on the way out. My hand moved up, untying the top of my mask, letting it drop onto my chest.

I looked to the right, seeing the paramedics still there. I ran toward them.

Trying to catch my breath I stopped in front of them, "The patient's belongings, where are they?"

"Like we said before, all she had was a necklace," one informed me, "We dropped them off at the nurse's station."

I nodded in acknowledgement before taking off for the station. I tore open the drawer filled with ambulance crew's patient drop forms. I sorted through the plastic bags there, labeled by patient number. My hand reached for the bag on top, the last bag placed there.

I pulled it out, taking a deep and uneasy breath. Releasing it, I opened the bag. There was only one item in the bag, a necklace. What was once a shining silver thread now was stained dark in blood, a silver circle resting on its crest.

I grasped for the chain, bringing it closer for inspection. My breath caught in my throat at what I saw.

A ring. A silver ring. A simple cut diamond at its focal point and elaborate designs etched in its sides.

_"Chloe," she drawled out, turning the ring over in her hands. "I can't."_

_"You trying to hurt my feelings here, Mitchell or are you really turning down what I must say has been a wonderfully executed proposal?" I asked, arching an eyebrow playfully._

_"Oh no," she backtracked, "I'll marry you I just… This is your grandmother's ring."_

_"It is," I nodded concisely. _

_She looked up at me. "Chloe, I can't take your grandmother's ring. This thing means the world to you."_

_I smiled at her, "My gran told me to give it to somebody that meant everything to me. __**You**__ mean everything to me. That ring gets to tell everybody just that so I can stop bragging."_

_She grinned at me, pulling me closer. "That," she started, "was probably one of the corniest things you have ever said." I pulled back, playfully pushing her shoulder._

_She kept me close, laughing. "But also the sweetest," her tone serious now._

_My thumb traced the grasshopper tattoo on her forearm while her lips pressed to my forehead. _

_"I'll never take it off," she said softly, her arms holding me tight._

The chain fell from my hands, the bag following closely behind it. What I had hoped was a mere coincidence was surely no longer that.

I rushed back to the room, the world around me blurring. Pushing the doors open, all eyes drew to where I stood.

"No penicillin!" I shouted. "She's allergic to penicillin."

No one moved, their eyes still trained on me. The nurse hanging a bag of IV antibiotics pulled the bag free swapping it for another on the tray instead.

I could feel Kaler and Aubrey's eyes on me.

"She's allergic to penicillin?" Kaler asked.

I nodded.

"Nice catch," Aubrey concluded, her focus elsewhere. "Did you find a medical alert bracelet after all?"

"No," I stated clearly.

Her eyes cut to mine. Confusion was evident on her features. "Did a family member or friend arrive?"

"No," I shook my head.

"Did the nurses find her in the system?" Kaler's voice popped up.

"No."

Aubrey placed her stethoscope back around her neck, sending me a critical look. "You're going to have to be a little clearer here then, Mitchell. How do you know about the patient's allergy?"

"Her name is Beca," I said, my voice hollow.

"Okay then," Aubrey drawled, her eyes fixed on the vitals screen and the plummeting BP. "How did you know about _Beca's_ allergy?" She asked, placing emphasis on the name as though it would placate me.

It didn't.

"Her name is Beca," I firmly repeated.

"You're going to have to tell us how that's relevant," Aubrey informed me.

"Dr. Mitchell?" Aubrey's voice floated toward me, taking on an authoritative tone when I didn't answer. "Chloe!"

My head snapped up to meet her concerned eyes, "Her name is Beca Mitchell." I took a breath. "She's my… She's my wife."

**A/N: Yes, I'm leaving you with that. Nothing like a kickstart to the story, huh?**

**What did you think? Did I have you all going, thinking you were going to get a Dr. Beca story? Sorry to disappoint if that was the case. I hope you all enjoy this direction instead.**

**Chloe's a bit OOC here but it will all make sense in good time. Please take the time to let me know what you think in that fancy little box below.**


	2. Night Terrors

**A/N: Welcome back! Can I just say, wow. Thank you all so much for reviewing on that last chapter, I was blown away by the response and I greatly appreciate each and every review no matter how short they are.**

**Moving on, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

When I was younger, I was all too often traumatized by nightmares. Night terrors, my mother used to call them and how befitting a name it was.

They weren't nightmares, they were too real for that. They took the safe constraints of my daily life and filled them with terrifying images. I would wake in a fit, panting with fear and so completely certain that everything that had happened in that world had actually taken place.

_It's not real, _my mother used to say, _it was only a dream_.

But I wasn't so sure. It was all too much, there were too many fine details embedded in my dreams. I was always told that dreams were duller, that the particulars got lost somewhere along the way. But my dreams were sharp and never lacking in specifics.

Like the faint smell of cigars in one particular dream. The smell was exactly the same brand as the ones my grandfather smoked.

You see, my nightmares happened in places I knew, with people I trusted betraying me. I was only a kid, and I was having the nightmares of an adult.

My mother had always told me I was an overachiever, maybe this was my subconscious' way of keeping up.

Regardless of why it was happening, it began to happen at an alarming frequency until I found a way to differentiate between the dream and my reality.

Everyone had their own ideas of how to solve my sleeping problem. None were particularly helpful.

My dad said I would grow out of it. My mom thought I needed to set a consistent sleeping pattern and my brother thought I needed to stop being such a freak and get over it.

I tried it all. I tried sleeping with a light on, I tried going to bed early, I tried going to bed late, I tried going to bed with socks on. But it didn't matter. None of it mattered until I was finally able to figure it out on my own.

The dreams were almost the same as reality except for one key difference.

You see, there was always this iridescent quality about my dreams. It was almost like someone had put a protective film over my eyes. Everything was the same, except for the edges. It was hardly noticeable, a mild blurring about the edges but it was always there. Without fail, no matter where my dreams took me, that filmy quality remained.

I blinked, the haze surrounding me not as familiar as I wanted it to be.

I could feel Aubrey and Dr. Kaler's eyes on me from across the room. I didn't need to look to know that the nurses around the room had stopped working. Everyone had halted their movements for but a few seconds before returning to their tasks.

I heard the long drone of a nearby machine.

"She's in v-fib," Aubrey spoke evenly, "It's got to be hypovolemic. We need that blood transfusion five minutes ago and we need to get her to an OR, stat."

Kaler chimed in, "Abdomen's rigid, we've got to have an internal bleed in addition to the femoral."

It all sounded far away like I was standing down the hall rather than in the same room.

_This wasn't real._

My mind searched frantically for an explanation because this couldn't be real. She couldn't here. She was supposed to be working. She wouldn't have rented a car, would she have? Hadn't Benji said she was working tonight?

She wasn't actually here. This all _had_ to be a dream, there was no other explanation. I was dreaming. I must have fallen asleep in the break room. All I needed was to wake up.

_This was just a dream, just a nightmare._

I was vaguely aware of the orders Aubrey was shouting out and the medications that the nurses were now pushing intravenously. The pads were charged and handed off to Aubrey who quickly used them. The long tone shortened into distinctive beeps.

Aubrey's face shot up at the sound. "We've got a sinus rhythm but not for long, we've got to move. Now."

_This wasn't real_.

I would wake up. I _had _to wake up.

My eyes searched for the sign, they searched desperately for the iridescent quality but found it nowhere. There was no blurring around the edges.

_But… it couldn't be._

I watched as they rolled her bed and the attached machines from the room. My feet carried me behind them. My feet led me toward the double doors that were the entrance to the operating rooms. I would have carried right on and followed that bed into the OR if not for the light hand on my shoulder.

I turned to its owner, Aubrey's usual hard expression replaced with something akin to concern and distress.

_This couldn't be real._

"No, no, no, no…" I shook my head back and forth.

"Mitchell," Aubrey's voice softly tried to pull me from my thoughts.

_This couldn't be happening._

But it was. There was no denying that this was real. This wasn't a nightmare, not in the traditional sense at least. This was real. This was happening. And if this _was_ happening I needed to be in that OR.

I moved to push past Aubrey, but she side-stepped to block me.

"Mitchell…" She said again, her voice sympathetic.

"I need-," my voice came out, shaky and sounding nothing like I remembered it to be. I cleared my throat, emphasizing, "I _need_ to be in there."

"Chloe," she blocked my attempt to move past her again.

"Posen," I glared at her and mustered up as much authority as I could manage to tell her, "Move."

She shook her head, a small frown on her lips.

"Don't tell me that I can't go in there. Don't do that to me. You _need _me in there. I'm the only trauma attending available right now and that," I said, blanching slightly when I considered what exactly _that _was. "That is the very definition of trauma."

"I get that, Mitchell, but if she's your wife…" She trailed off and I knew she was questioning the validity of that statement.

I hadn't told her, I hadn't told anyone here about my past. It wasn't necessary. It wasn't essential to me being a good doctor so it wasn't information that needed to be passed around.

"She is," I cut in.

"Then you're not allowed in that OR, hospital rules," she cited. "Family, no matter how estranged, doesn't get worked on by family."

And I knew she was right. I knew how this worked, but I also knew the extent of Beca's injuries. She was in an accident involving a semi-truck. By all means, she shouldn't even be alive. That thought was enough for me to try and push forward past Aubrey again.

She stopped me, shaking her head. "You're not going anywhere near that OR."

"What do you expect me to do? Sit in the lobby and wait?" I asked, incredulously. I was a trauma surgeon, damnit. And this was a major trauma.

"Yes, that's exactly what you're going to do," she stated calmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I'm going to page one of your residents and call Davis and you're going to go and call her family and then sit in the lobby like family is supposed to do. Because like it or not, you're not a doctor right now. Right now, you're family."

Satisfied that I wasn't going to try to enter the OR, Aubrey turned on her heel.

"Aubrey," I called after her. She turned to me. "Don't-" I cut myself off, trying a different route. "She can't-" I shrugged helplessly at her.

"I know," she nodded once, "We'll do everything in our power, Chloe. I promise."

And she pushed past the double doors intent on the OR where my wife was currently being cut open.

_This wasn't a dream. It was much, much worse. _

I walked, blindly toward the break room.

_This was actually happening. Why was this happening?_

I choked on a sob that rose too quickly, pushing into the break room and nearly breaking out into a run as I approached the bathroom there. I fell to my knees, bile rising up as I emptied my stomach into the porcelain bowl there.

I heaved, one last time, before falling back, drawing my knees up to my chest and sobbing freely.

_This couldn't be happening. Oh God, why was this happening?_

XXXXX

_"Why exactly is this happening?" _

_I rolled my eyes at her questioning, letting out a sigh all the same. _

_"If I have to be here so do you. Suck it up, Mitchell," I sing-songed, the practiced fake smile pressed to my face._

_"My God, what __**am**__ I marrying into?" She asked, a teasing lilt to her words. I turned swiftly, my mock glare replaced with a genuine smile when I noticed a small smirk on her lips. She gestured forward, "This is what I'm stuck with for the rest of my life?"_

_I didn't want to be here anymore than she did. I hated these kinds of things and had hated them since I was a little kid. It was unfortunately something that came with being a Beale. 'One of a Beale's responsibilities,' as my mother would say._

_It was one of those 'Beale's responsibilities' that had forced me to endure another one of these events. It wasn't as difficult as one would think to get my fiancé to agree to come. I could be very persuasive when I needed to be, especially when it came to her._

_"You would be so lucky," I retorted. "You know if you keep this up you're not going to be marrying anybody," I said, knocking my shoulder into hers where we sat on a too plush couch at the side of the busy room. We had socialized the very bare minimum necessary to be considered socially acceptable before quietly retiring to the corner._

_"I wouldn't be so sure of that," she said. "There are people lining up to marry me." _

_"Oh really?" I raised my eyebrows at her._

_Her smirk grew wider, "Oh yeah. And with one of them I'd still get to be a part of the Beale family and everything."_

_I let out a bark of laughter as my eyes fell on my brother across the room conversing with some family friends. He tossed a wink our way as though he had overheard the entire conversation._

_"A less secure girl would be worried that you and my brother are going to run off together someday."_

_She raised her glass in Jay's direction and turned to me with an amused look on her face. "Well he is quite charming."_

_I shook my head at her, "I'm not worried."_

_"No?"_

_"Nah," I told her, my eyes forward as I watched an elderly man stroll in with a much younger woman on his arm. I hoped that was his daughter, but knew it probably wasn't. "Now if I had a sister, I might be a little concerned."_

_And the old man planted a kiss on his younger date's lips. Not his daughter… hopefully._

_"Only a little?" Her words pulled me from the scene unfolding in front of us. I turned toward her. _

_"Oh please, Mitchell, everyone knows I've got you wrapped around my little finger. Who else could get Beca Mitchell to attend an event at the country club," I smugly surmised._

_She laughed, taking a swig of the champagne in the glass in her hand. "I don't know, Beale, with an ego that large there might not be enough room in this relationship for the both of us."_

_"You have such a way with words," I remarked sarcastically._

_"I'm aware," she said, puffing up slightly. _

_I met her eye, "Seems my ego has been rubbing off on you."_

_"Kind of like my wit has been rubbing off on you," she quipped._

_"If anything you're just making me more of a smart ass than I've ever been."_

_"It has been my pleasure m'lady," she told me, a sophisticated lift of her pinky upon her champagne glass._

_She gave me a sideway glance, the serious look on her face melting off as she dissolved into giggles beside me. _

_"And I think you've had quite enough of the bubbly, m'lady," I said, reaching for her empty glass and handing it with a polite thank you to one of the waiters as he walked by. I stood up, rocking back on my heels and offering her a hand. "Let's go walk this off, shall we?"_

_"We shall," she said, beaming up at me and taking my hand._

_She swayed as she stood. I laughed, helping her keep upright with a hand on the middle of her back._

_"You okay there?" I asked._

_"M'fine, it's just these damn heels," she muttered, leaning further into my embrace._

_"Yeah, yeah Mitchell, whatever you say," I smiled down at her. The pair of heels on my own feet maintained my slight height advantage over her. I pulled back, letting my hand trail down from her shoulder past her elbow to twine my hand in hers. She gave mine a quick squeeze back before we made our way towards the exit._

_"Sneaking off so soon?" I winced, halting in place before turning towards the source of the voice. It was like I was sixteen all over again, being caught trying to sneak (unsuccessfully) out of the house to attend a seniors-only party down the street._

_"We're just going for a quick walk Dad," I began, my dad standing in front of me in one of his polished suits with a perfectly folded pocket square peeking out of his pocket._

_"You don't fool me for a minute, Chloe," he smiled at the pair of us before focusing on Beca. "She's been sneaking off from these things since she was a little kid. Used to at least wait for the dessert to be brought out though."_

_"We're not sneaking off," I defended, though the pitch in my voice was probably more telling than my words._

_"Go on, get out of here. One of us ought to escape while they still can," my dad said, shooing us away. "Just don't let your mother see you."_

_"Where is she anyways?" I asked, slowly backing away from the conversation. _

_He shrugged. "No idea, but you'd better hurry."_

_I threw a half wave over my shoulder as we walked away. My dad hated all this stuff about as much as I did. Although my dad had been raised in the culture, it had always been more of my mother's thing. She was involved in every aspect of the country club lifestyle and enjoyed the status that came with it._

_Our heels clicked along the country club's polished floors as we made our way towards the deserted patio area. Beca let go of my hand with a smile, walking in front of me towards the patio's edge._

_It was a cool night, fall bringing the beginnings of a bitter breeze on its coattails. I watched as she shivered slightly in the wind._

_With a small smile, I approached her, winding my arms around her from behind. She leaned back into me, resting her hands over my own on her waist._

_"Hey, isn't that your mom?"_

_I looked over to the right and saw a woman speaking frantically on her phone across the patio in a small overhang where she was almost out of sight. She was gesticulating wildly even though the person on the other line couldn't see her. I rolled my eyes, she was the most over the top person to speak to on the phone and she closed the majority of the homes she sold by phone._

_"Yeah it is, wonder if Dad's still looking for her."_

_"See, even your mom has somewhere she'd rather be than in there," Beca said._

_After a moment of silence, she stated, "I don't know how you made it through all these events when you were a kid. It seems like every time we come back here there's another fundraiser or something."_

_I shrugged behind her. "It's not so bad. Free food. Free liquor," I added, pinching her sides._

_She smirked, "Well, the free liquor's not so bad."_

_I shook my head at her, "You're such a lightweight!"_

_"I prefer to think of myself as an affordable date," she corrected._

_"Don't you mean cheap date?" I laughed out._

_"One in the same, really," she said, exhaling deeply. I rested my chin on her shoulder, happy to have her here beside me. "So that really old man and that woman he kissed… Prostitute or daughter?"_

_I chuckled, "If it helps your decision at all, I think there was some tongue involved in that kiss."_

_"Yikes. What is with these people?"_

_"Hey," I exclaimed. "I'm one of __**these **__people. And pretty soon you're going to be one of these people as well."_

_"Yeah, but we're not one of __**those **__people. And neither is your family," she stated. "You guys don't seem to fit in very well."_

_"Well we never really have. I guess I'm not actually that torn up about it though."_

_"Why not?"_

_"I don't know, it just seems like all of __**those **__people have so many secrets," I confessed. "My family's always been honest to a fault."_

_Beca nodded, snuggling back further into me. "I've got that job interview next week." _

_"You have everything ready for it?"_

_She hummed out a tentative affirmative, biting the bottom of her lip in a way that told me how nervous she truly was._

_"You're going to do great, Bec. They'd be absolutely insane not to give it to you," I told her, aware that I was more confident about her chances than she was. _

_She was up for a promotion at the recording label she had been working at since graduating from Barden. However, the label was forced to hold interviews for the position even though they were intent on hiring within. Her boss loved her and she had been doing amazing work. She would get it, I just knew she would.  
_

_"What if…" She started then trailed off._

_"What if, what?" I urged her to continue._

_She pulled back out of my embrace, maintaining contact through our connected hands. _

_"What if I don't get it?" She asked quietly while sheepishly staring down at her feet._

_"Then you keep working at it and get the next one," I replied._

_"That's not-" she let go of my hands, turning away from me. "Never mind."_

_"No, not never mind. What's going on, Bec?"_

_"It's just… we've got the wedding coming up and…" She trailed off again, keeping her back to me. "I don't know, Chloe, I- It's- Look around!" She finished, throwing her hands up in the air and gesturing to the perfectly cut lawns in front of us. "You've been a part of a country club since you were born and I don't have enough money to give you any of this."_

_"My parents can pay for…" I cut in only to be cut off._

_"That's just it! I don't want your parents to have to pay for it all. It's __**our**__ wedding. I want to be able to provide for you," she threw her hand up in exasperation again._

_I took a couple of steps forward until I was in front of her._

_"You do," I said, meeting her eye. "Providing for someone is about a lot more than backing them financially. You know I don't care about any of that, any of this," I said, pointing at the elaborate fountain in front of us. "We could get married in a courthouse tomorrow and I would be ecstatic about it."_

_She nodded shallowly, mulling over my words. By the looks of it, she still wasn't entirely convinced._

_"Is this what's been bothering you all week?" I asked. She had been a little quieter for the past week. I had written it off as nerves for the interview and apparently may have jumped the gun on it._

_I watched as she nodded again. "How about this? We go home, scrap all the plans my mom has made for the wedding thus far," I started, Beca raising an eyebrow at my comment. "Now hear me out, we scrap all the plans and draft up some new ones for a small, intimate wedding. Family and close friends only."_

_"We can't do that," she dismissed the idea with a swipe of the hand._

_"Why not? We haven't sent out the invitations yet and we can call the caterers and scale everything down," I told her. "I don't want you to worry about this and as long as at the end of the day we're married to each other none of the rest of it matters."_

_She took in a deep breath. "Yeah?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Okay," she said, taking a step closer to me. I rolled my eyes at her hesitance and wrapped my arms around her in a hug. After a beat, her arms wrapped around me._

_"I love you," her voice was muffled by my hair in her face._

_"I love you too," I told her. With a sigh, I pulled back. "We should probably get back."_

XXXXXX

"Dr. Mitchell?" A male voice sounded above me. I groaned in response, remaining in the tight ball I had pulled myself into. "Oh God, are you alright?"

"M'fine Jesse," I told him, opening my eyes to see him standing there with concern trenched into his features.

"Did you get sick?" He asked, falling to his knees and moving to sit next to me.

I shrugged. Because I had gotten sick but probably not the kind of sick he was implying. I wasn't ill, I was in pain. She was in pain and because of that so was I.

"Kaler wanted me to check on you," he said and I realized that he was probably aware of the circumstances leading up to me sobbing on the break room's bathroom floor. "There's, erm, there's no news about… about your wife that is. She's in surgery now."

I appreciated the small space he had left between us. It told me he was here for me, but wasn't going to force me to speak.

"But they're the very best," he assured me. I knew they were the very best, but that fact did little to calm my frantic mind.

"Is there someone I should call? Her parents maybe or…?" He prompted.

"No," I croaked, knowing it was something I had to do myself. I took Jesse's offered hand and let him follow me to the break room couch where I pulled out my phone. Dialing the most recent contact on it, I listened to the long ring tones each following tone solidifying this nightmare into reality.

A short hello came across the line. "Benji? Something happened, something bad."

I realized this was real. This was real and I wasn't waking up.

**A/N: There's chapter two! I am accepting any and all predictions on the plot by the way as well as any other comments you may have. Thanks for giving this a read! **

**Sorry this took so long by the way, I've been busy drinking all the alcohol I've had to put off drinking the whole semester. It's been a lot of work and my liver hates me... Not sure when I will update next but trying to keep this thing on at least a weekly scale. Have a great weekend!**


	3. Time

**A/N: Hey all! Thank you to the people who left a review on the last chapter. Thank you also for the continued interest in the story! Freaking love each and every one of you, but really… I do. Here's chapter 3!**

**Chapter 3**

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Time moved forward. My eyes were fixed on the hands of the clock in front of me. Under my scrutiny, the hands on the clock appeared frozen. It was like I was back in etiquette school all over again, willing the hands to move forward at a faster rate so I could escape the polite replies and neatly folded napkins.

But the hands never did move quicker. Not then, not now.

Because Time wasn't prone to peer pressure. No matter what insults I tossed its way in my mind, no matter what threats I proclaimed, Time remained constant. It kept moving forward at its own pace.

_Tick. Tock. Tick._

It probably didn't help that I was indecisive about what I wanted Time to do. I was completely torn between wanting it to move forward so there would be some sort of news and wanting it to warp back to a time there wouldn't have had to have been any news.

Maybe I just wanted it to stop. Maybe I just wanted this all to stop.

Anxiety bubbled up inside me as my breath caught in my throat.

_It was for the best, _I tried to remind myself.

But what reasoning could possibly still exist when she had coded in a trauma room I worked in every day?

_How was this for the best?_

_Tock. Tick._

_Oh God, if she didn't make it then I…._

I buried my face in my hands, my fingers tangling in my hair.

_Tock._

"Hey, hey, hey," I felt a strong hand grasp cautiously for my own, "Take a breath, Dr. Mitchell."

I did as he asked, taking in a shaky breath before releasing it in just the same shaky manner.

I was glad Jesse was here, even if I would never admit it. I was going out of my head sitting here and worrying about it all and knew it would only be worse if I were here alone.

After my short call with Benji, Jesse ushered me to a chair in the waiting room leaving only to return a few minutes later with two cups of coffee and a bagel. He used a plastic knife to spread cream cheese on both sides of the bagel before handing me half and slouching back in his chair without a word.

Word about the identity of the patient in OR four had spread quickly throughout the hospital. It was not entirely shocking given the circumstances that admittedly sounded like something out of _Days of Our Lives. _It was, however, more than annoying when each and every member of the staff waltzed through the waiting room to gawk or perhaps confirm that the rumors were in fact true.

"We'll know something soon," he said, in a soothing manner.

And I wanted to believe him, but I had worked on thousands of patients. I performed dozens of surgeries of differing difficulties a week. I knew all the words to say to comfort a grieving family but I didn't know how to _be_ the grieving family.

I had never been on this side of it all before. I had worked so hard to have some semblance of control in my life and for what? Is this what I got for all my efforts? Is this what I deserved?

She was in that operating room and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to help. The near decade I had spent in school, the years I had spent perfecting my trade didn't mean anything anymore because I was stuck on the other side of it all. Helpless. That's all I was now, helpless.

XXXXX

_"Six months," the doctor droned emotionlessly, dictating his notes as he went._

_"Only six?" I asked, unable to hide the emotion in my own voice._

_Dr. Tisch turned to me, a worn smile on his face. "Six months if we're lucky and we won't always be lucky."_

_I nodded at him, processing the information. _

_"It's understandable to be upset, Chloe," he drawled with a knowing look. "It's one of the major dilemmas an oncologist can face working in a community of people they've known long since they began practicing. Mrs. Keller is a friend of mine as well, but six months is the best we can give her. We've tried chemo and radiation, but the tumor isn't shrinking. In fact, it's grown. If it was inoperable before, it's long past inoperable now."_

_I gave him a weak grin, letting him return to his notes as I took in the hospital around me. _

_It was winter break, a couple of weeks before Christmas. I was halfway through my third year of medical school and intent on getting any shadowing experience that I could even if it meant cutting into my own winter vacation._

_Dr. Tisch was an old family friend and well known oncologist in the area. After only a half-day of walking in his footsteps, I could tell that practicing oncology wasn't quite my style. Medicine to me was about preventing and healing morbidity, not staring it in the eye for months or even years until it eventually becomes the only thing to exist._

_We had delivered four death sentences today and it wasn't even noon yet. I let out an inaudible sigh, pressing the unlock button on my phone but keeping it out of sight as I briefly read the message on the screen._

**_When are you getting back? I think your gran just tried to give me a sex talk…_**

_I bit back a snort at my wife's words and replied with a short: 'You think…?'_

_We had been married for a little over seven months now and one would think after the barrage of engagement party, wedding shower, and wedding she would be slightly more comfortable with my family. _

_Then again, I had spent my entire life with them and never fully adapted. I was more than a little jealous that she was at my parents' home spending time with my family while I was here acting as the Grim Reaper's side kick._

_A short buzz came from my lab coat pocket. After sneaking a glance to see Dr. Tisch still fully immersed in the chart, I toggled the unlock button again._

**_There was mention of future great-grandbabies and the mechanics of it all, just hurry back. Your brother is opening the Jäger. Otherwise, I'll see you in couple hours. I'll be the tiny brunette getting her stomach pumped in ER bed 3._**

_'You can't request beds, this isn't a cheap motel,' I typed back quickly before locking my phone again._

_"What do you say we take an early lunch, huh Chloe?" Dr. Tisch asked, stacking the chart into its place._

_I smiled and nodded as we began to walk down the hall toward the cafeteria before being stopped by one of the nurses._

_"Dr. Tisch, you have a call on line two."_

_"Of course," he told her, turning to me he said, "You go ahead, I'll be right there. Probably just the wife checking to make sure I took my blood pressure meds. I keep telling her I'm a doctor, I know I need to take my own damn pills yet same time every day, she calls to remind me."_

_He smiled fondly at the thought before walking towards the nurse's station. I decided against going straight to the cafeteria, instead taking the opportunity to get some fresh air on the large outdoor patio the hospital had sprung for a couple of years prior. I took the necessary steps to get me to the outer patio and maneuvered my way to a bench in the sunlight near to one of the many heaters given by an anonymous donor. _

_I sighed as the sun reached my face._

_Mrs. Keller had six months to live. The woman who had given me my first babysitting job only had six months left. She was the woman who listened to me cry over my first breakup because my parents were on vacation. I had known her since I was born (she had brought my mother flowers in the hospital). It didn't seem right that she was given a death sentence today._

_How did Dr. Tisch stay detached when his patients were the same people he had sat across the table from weeks prior? _

_It didn't seem right._

_I took my phone from my pocket and scrolled to call a contact. _

_The dial tones rang until a soft voice came across the line, "I was just joking about that bed three thing, your brother has assured me that we can make a house call when I inevitably need my stomach pumped."_

_I snorted into the phone. "Please try and hold your liquor for once in your life, dear."_

_"I can hold my liquor," came her reply although it was cut off by what sounded like my brother shouting in the background._

_I rolled my eyes at her claim. "Two weeks ago Benji had to carry you home from the bar."_

_There was a pause before a sheepish, "I don't remember that."_

_"I rest my case," I stated, already feeling more at ease than I had before the call._

_"I was jetlagged!" She exclaimed, making me laugh outright._

_"From your forty-five minute flight?"_

_After her promotion (I wasn't one for gloating, but if I were I would have shouted 'I told you so' at the top of my lungs at the restaurant when she told me), she was required to do more traveling. For the most part, the trips didn't last more than a couple of days._

_Unfortunately, the majority of these trips feel on weekends which were the days that bands and artists were most likely to perform. The talent scouting portion of her position pulled her away during the few days in which I had the most free time. It was a difficult transition, but one that we knew was necessary for the time being, at least until I was finished with medical school._

_"It was a very tiring flight," she quipped back, the background noises around her having completely ceased. She must have moved outside away from the commotion my family was causing inside. "You okay, Beale?"_

_I smiled. "Actually it's Mitchell now, Chloe Mitchell," I told her, my stomach flip-flopping the tiniest bit. Just the name made me feel giddy like a grade school girl with her first crush._

_She let out a laugh, conceding, "Well then, you okay, Mitchell?"_

_I pondered her question for a moment before replying, "I will be."_

_"You sure?" She asked._

_"Yeah," I said, "Yeah I am."_

_I heard something shatter in the background before a soft 'shit' came across the line._

_"What was that?" I asked._

_"I think I just broke one of your Mom's miniature statuettes," she hurried out. "Are they expensive? Shit, Chloe, are they expensive? Or rare?" _

_I pinched the bridge of my nose, laughing, "What did I do to deserve you?"_

_"I'm only in it for the country club membership and your trust fund," she deadpanned._

_"Alright, alright. Don't you have a table you should be getting drank under right now? If not that, don't you have some more of my mother's antiques to break?"_

_"As a matter of a fact, I do," she stated concisely, "Love you."_

_"Love you too. Please be semi-coherent when I get home," I pleaded with her._

_"No promises," she said. I could practically hear her smirk across the line._

_I shook my head in amusement as I hung up the phone. The conversation had brought me back to the right state of mind in the same manner that so many of our conversations had grounded me before. It had provided clarity._

_I had chosen medicine for the same cliché reason most other people did: I wanted to save lives. And part of saving lives was losing some. It was one of the first lessons we were taught. I wasn't sure why this particular day of shadowing was getting to me. It must have been the level of familiarity I had with some of the patients. _

_It was unethical for doctors to practice medicine when they were emotionally compromised. Perhaps this was me discovering what emotional compromise felt like. For the record, it felt pretty awful. _

_I was now more certain than ever that I would never want to return home or join a local practice. I already had an idea of what brand of medicine interested me. Oncology on a population I was familiar with wasn't right for me, but Dr. Tisch was a phenomenal Oncologist and I could learn a great deal from him._

_With a renewed sense of vigor, I stood up and walked toward the cafeteria my eyes fixed on my phone in my hand where I was sending a simple, 'Thank you' to my wife who, for a self-proclaimed socially awkward person, was quite adept at knowing just what to say._

_With my attention elsewhere, I crashed into a solid object and my phone tumbled to the ground._

_"I am __**so**__ sorry," I started sincerely, stooping low to grab my phone off the ground. As I did so, I got a decent look at the person I had crashed into. My brow furrowed in confusion, "Mom?"_

_She looked up in a state of similar surprise, dusting off her perfectly polished attire and straightening up. "Chloe? What are you doing here?"_

_I gave her a quizzical look, "I'm shadowing Dr. Tisch. We're just on lunch break right now."_

_"Oh," she said, standing to her full height and began to fiddle with a strap on her purse. "Right. I remember now."_

_"You okay, Mom? I told you all of this last night." Taking in her frazzled appearance and out of character reticence, I came to a conclusion. I softened my voice, "You heard about Mrs. Keller, didn't you?"_

_Her head shot up to me, eyes wide. I should have known. _

_Mrs. Keller and my mother had always been close. They had been best friends since my parents had first moved into the neighborhood. I couldn't imagine what it was like to learn your best friend was dying. _

_"Mom," I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and awkwardly delivered, "I erm, if there's anything I can do, let me know?"_

_"Of course, Chloe," she spoke concisely before walking away while sorting through her purse._

_My phone buzzed in my pocket, alerting me that I had a new text message. I pulled out my phone and unlocked the screen to see my wife's short message, __**Anytime.**_

XXXXX

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Jesse's knee shook up and down beside me. It had been two and a half hours. Two and a half hours since they first took her into the operating room. I knew that no news was good news for the time being. Every hour without news was another hour that she was alive.

Knowing what I did didn't make any of this easier.

My stomach still dropped to my feet each and every time a surgeon emerged from the doors that led to the operating rooms. I found myself wondering how difficult and complicated the surgery must have been if they couldn't spare even an intern to update me.

_Tick. Tock. Tick._

"You don't have to stay here," I threw in Jesse's direction. His knee stopped moving as he turned toward me. "Your shift must have ended hours ago."

"I'm fine, quite comfortable actually," he said. A boyish grin spread across his features. "You can't get rid of me that easily, Dr. Mitchell."

_Tock. Tick. _

I opened my mouth to reply, but shut it immediately as I noticed Aubrey walking towards us. She still had her scrub cap on with her scrub gown untied, showing her scrubs underneath.

I found myself on my feet and moving towards her. I was trying to read her facial expression, hoping it would betray the outcome of the surgery.

I found nothing there. Her face was blank, a mask of professionalism concealing her thoughts.

_Tock._

I felt the world spinning around me as she closed the distance between us. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat as I waited for her to say something, anything.

"We ran into a number of complications," Aubrey began, her tone flat. "Given the nature and severity of her accident, these complications were to be expected…"

"Posen," I cut her off, my vision blurring.

I didn't want to hear all of the details now, I could pour over her chart later. There was only one thing I needed to know right now.

_Tock._

Aubrey's eyes cut up to mine as she informed me, "She's alive, Chloe. For now, she's alive."

_She was alive. _

I let out a deep breath, only some of the tension melting from my shoulders. I knew this was only the beginning. We were nowhere near out of the woods yet. Surviving the surgery was less than half of the battle. It was these next few hours and days that were critical.

_She was alive, for now._

Time kept marching forward, completely unaware of the victims it left behind. At least for now, my wife wasn't one of them and I could only hope and pray that it stayed that way.

**A/N: A shorter chapter this time as more details of the past are brought forward.**

**This is one of those fics that takes a little while to ramp up (after that initial bombshell, of course). So this will be longer than my normal 5 chapter long fics. **

**Just stick with me! I promise shit will hit the fan eventually and will definitely be worth sticking around for. And everything will eventually make sense as well… If that is comforting at all.**

**Any and all reviews are welcome, especially any predictions. It only takes a minute or so of your time but your feedback means the world to me!**


	4. Complications

**A/N: Hello, hello. Sorry this is late, I was up visiting my parents this weekend for father's day and didn't realize they were lacking internet capabilities until I was stranded without it. So I had this chapter sitting all pretty and ready to post on Saturday and wasn't able to until I got back right now. **

**Anyways, thank you so much to the loyal reviewers I've got. I love hearing from you all!**

**Disclaimer: I ****_still _****don't own Pitch Perfect. **

**Chapter 4**

My gaze was fixed forward toward the monitors in the room. My eyes darted between the many numbers that flashed and reset every few moments. A rhythmic beeping sounded across the still air and I welcomed it. Each successive beep signified she was one step farther away from the danger zone.

_Four broken ribs, one that punctured her left lung in the process. A dislocated shoulder, so far out of socket that the rotator cuff was suspected to have torn messily off. An MRI would need to be conducted to confirm the surgeon's suspicions. A ruptured spleen and kidney, the sliced splenic artery that was the cause of the internal bleed in conjunction with the severely damaged kidney. A spinal cord contusion and two herniated discs, quite possibly the largest shock of all. Considering the force of impact the spinal cord very well should have been broken in multiple places. A severe, closed traumatic brain injury the full results of which wouldn't be seen until she woke up, __**if **__she woke up. Major muscular tissue damage where the femoral bleed occurred in addition to a hairline fracture in said femur._

Her injuries were extensive. I didn't have to read the chart twice to know exactly how improbable it was that she was still alive. In the case of a tiny brunette vs. semi-truck, the odds never favor the brunette. Yet somehow she was here.

Once in the OR, finding the source of the abdomen bleed had taken priority. Her spleen and kidney were removed while Aubrey did her best to repair the punctured lung. The chest tube I had inserted in the trauma room did little to relieve the pressure in the chest cavity. Aubrey soon found it was because the lung had been punctured in multiple places by the fragments from one of the broken ribs.

The shock Beca's body entered because of the blood loss complicated matters even more. She coded a total of four times on that table, Aubrey and her team of doctors bringing her back each time. They were toeing the line between death and life without a safety net. There were only so many times that a person could be brought back from the dead…

_But she was alive. For now, she was alive._

I fidgeted, shifting my weight around the stiff backed chair I was seated in.

It had been four hours since Beca was transferred into the ICU after she was deemed stable enough to make the move. It wasn't my first time entering a room in the ICU, but it was my first time seeing a person I knew intimately well barely clinging to their life.

I had taken three steps into the room, observing her for a moment. Her shoulder had been realigned and placed in a sling. It was the least of her problems for the time being although I knew that eventually if… _when_, I tried to think positively, she healed further surgery would be necessary. Her left side had been affected the most from the impact and thus her dominant arm was injured.

It was odd, her gown and the blanket draped over her served to cover most of her injuries yet she still looked so fragile. I realized this was the first time I had seen her in 13 months.

_It had been over a year now, hadn't it? _

_13 months… _The thought stuck with me as I hovered over the bed bed, not remembering taking the steps forward to reach it. I noticed a couple of butterfly bandages on the various facial lacerations deep enough to need them. She was intubated, a machine taking the breaths that were necessary for her to keep living.

I should have known. I should have recognized her from the moment she was wheeled out of the ambulance.

13 months and I didn't even recognize her.

Even with her face swollen and bruised, it should have been familiar because despite the injuries it was still her. It was still the face I woke up to every day for four years of my life. 13 months of time couldn't possibly have changed that. It was then that I leaned down, pressing my lips gently to her forehead before pulling a chair near her bedside.

Four hours later, I kept my eyes forward. I plucked at an errant string on the fabric of my scrubs. It seemed that even the wrinkles on my scrub bottoms had wrinkles. It was impossible to distinguish between the wrinkles that had formed during my lengthy shift and those that had formed during the near seven hours that I had been waiting.

I wasn't even sure what I was waiting for. It was simpler when I was in the lobby waiting for news. At least then there was an absolute, a good or a bad. Now I was just waiting. Waiting for her stats to plummet, waiting for her to code again, waiting for her to wake up, waiting for her to get better, just waiting. Maybe I was waiting for something, anything to happen so I could stop feeling so helpless. The reality was that I couldn't do anything but watch the monitor in front of me.

I heard the door slide open behind me, a chair scraping across the ground and stopping beside me. I chanced a glance beside me to see Aubrey flop into the open seat. Her lab coat was open and she was wearing a fresh pair of scrubs but the dark circles under her eyes spoke to the number of hours she had been working.

She must have refused to go home. It was a trait the two of us shared: an inability to walk away from the patients most in need of care.

The ICU had a strict family only policy so naturally every staff member in the hospital had been wandering around the halls for the past few hours. Besides a couple of skittish interns taking observations every twenty minutes, Aubrey was the only one to enter the room.

She didn't say a word, choosing instead to stare right at the vitals alongside me.

"Pressure's back up," she commented after a few minutes, effectively breaking the silence.

I nodded, turning back towards the machines where the blood pressure read 80/40. It was still dangerously low, but had been trending upward since she had first been admitted into the ICU. It would need to keep trending up if she were to have a fighting chance.

"So…" She started. Her tone was cautious in a manner that was indicative of her subject choice. "You're married."

"I am," I said succinctly, taking a sudden interest in the fabric of my scrubs. I picked at the tiny balls of lint that were pressed into my thigh.

Aubrey nodded beside me. "Well that certainly explains why you didn't want to go on any of the dates I set up for you," she concluded, leaning back to prop her feet up on the foot of the bed as she grabbed Beca's chart and began to flip through it. "You could have told me, you know," she tried to keep her tone neutral but failed as a trace of hurt leaked through.

I didn't blame her. She had shared with me her entire family drama and I hadn't bothered to mention I was married. It hardly seemed a fair trade-off.

"I know," I assured her. "It was just easier… to not tell anyone. It felt like a fresh start, even if I'm not likely to actually get one," I let out a bitter laugh.

"I did, erm, it's complicated. I did some things I'm not proud of and I guess I didn't want everyone here to know about it all." I let silence fill the room before leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. "I left her. We were married and I left her."

I sighed, burying my face in my hands as I finally let the exhaustion of it all wash over me.

"You took her name," Aubrey stated without a trace of the judgment that I had predicted would be there, "When you got married you took her name."

"I did," I told her, my brow furrowing in confusion at her statements.

"You wanted a fresh start, you moved across the country or so I'm guessing since her paperwork has LA listed as a permanent address, you haven't told anyone here that you're married, but you kept her name," Aubrey listed off, closing the chart and setting it back in place as she sat up. "I'm guessing there's a lot more to your story than what you're letting on. When you feel like talking about it, you know how to find me."

Aubrey stood up, pushing her chair back and pausing at the door. "Her vitals are decent, all things considered, and they're stable. Do yourself a favor and try to get some sleep, Mitchell. She's not going anywhere. And you look like shit," she finished with a small smile.

XXXXX

_A door slammed shut._

_"I hate you," she said, her voice flat and dull._

_"No, you don't," I countered, an upward lilt to my words as I flipped through the magazine in my lap._

_"Oh, but I do," Beca said, wincing and groaning as she rubbed at a spot on her arm._

_"Stop being a baby," I replied, rolling my eyes at her actions and tossing the magazine aside._

_"You're the one who betrayed my trust," she huffed back, sliding off the raised table and shrugging out of the flimsy gown she had been wearing._

_"Oh my God, you're being so melodramatic," I said as I chucked her neatly folded bra and shirt in her direction._

_"Melodramatic?" She asked, popping her hip out in a manner that could only be described as… well, melodramatic. Of course, she was still topless so her action only succeeded in diverting my attention elsewhere momentarily rather than emphasizing her dissent. "You told me to drop round the hospital for lunch. For __**lunch**__. So I show up, expecting to get some quality time with my wife and the next thing I know, I'm getting poked and prodded by some eighty year old man! I did not sign up for this, Mitchell!"_

_I laughed, watching with the tiniest bit of disappointment as Beca snapped her bra back on, "Dr. Barnes is sixty not ninety, but nice try. And I wouldn't have had to trick you into coming to the hospital just to get an EKG if you made your own appointment like you were supposed to."_

_"Then riddle me this, __**Doctor**__ Mitchell," she threw her shirt over her head haphazardly, "If all I needed was an EKG then why did they stick a __**giant**__ needle in my arm, huh? Tell me that!"_

_"Because you haven't gotten a tetanus shot since you were in middle school," I deadpanned, shoving my hands into my lab coat's pockets._

_"Well, you're not supposed to get them every year," she defended._

_"That's not an excuse to not ever get one! You're ridiculous," I chuckled out while standing up and pulling my hands out of my pockets, "You were referred to the hospital for an EKG three months ago. Let's be honest here, if I didn't make this appointment you never would have gone through with it."_

_Beca shrugged, not denying it as she took her jacket back from me and exited the room into the surrounding hospital. "I don't get why I had to get an EKG in the first place."_

_"You had to get an EKG because you have a family history of heart problems and our family practice doc suspected you might have an irregular rhythm," I reasoned with her, quickening my pace to walk beside her._

_"And what did we find today? I am healthy as shit," Beca stated, her fingers absentmindedly linking with mine. I scrunched my nose up at the phrasing and took a right towards the cafeteria, pulling Beca with me. "I still can't believe you tricked me. You know I hate doctors."_

_I raised an eyebrow at her, "__**I'm **__a doctor…"_

_"Well, yeah, but you're not- You don't count. I met you when you were a real person," her free arm spread out in a wide gesture._

_"And then I magically lost my humanity and became a doctor all at once," I remarked. "It's much cheaper if you do both at one time. Medical school discount."_

_I handed her a tray and grabbed my own as we made our way into the queue for food. _

_"You're lucky, you know," she said, grabbing a Greek yogurt from the shelf and inspecting the expiration date before placing it on her tray. _

_"I know," I replied softly, a smirk on my face as I reached around her to grab an apple. "I've got you, haven't I?"_

_"Not because of that, you cheeseball," she said, a shy smile on her lips. "I just mean that you've got good genes. Like you hit the genetic lottery or something. It's a good thing our kids will have half your chromosomes."_

_I stopped in my tracks, looking at her curiously. Did she realize what she just said? She seemed unaffected as she nonchalantly pulled a sandwich onto her tray and slid my usual Panini onto mine._

_"Our kids?" I asked her, incredulous._

_Kids had yet to be brought up in conversation. I had been hesitant to broach the topic not knowing what her stance on the matter was._

_She turned back to me, two different cookies in hand. "Well yeah," she shuffled the cookies around in her hand, purposely avoiding eye contact as she backpedaled, "I mean, assuming you're interested in having kids."_

_She wanted kids. She had brought up wanting kids… It seemed slightly out of character but I didn't push it. I grabbed the chocolate chip cookie from her hand. "I definitely want kids, I didn't know **you** wanted kids."_

_"I do," she nodded quickly, tossing me a side salad. "With you, that is. I know I'm not the girl that has her first three kids' names picked out and outfits already sewn for them but I can see __**us **__having kids."_

_I slid a bottle of iced tea onto her tray. "And you're assuming that I'm going to carry all of __our __kids?"_

_She shrugged, ducking her head down, "I never thought I was going to have kids and then I met you and realized it wouldn't be so bad to have mini Chloe's running around." Straightening her posture, she smirked over at me, "Besides, who am I to let your genes go to waste?"_

_I let out a laugh which was followed by an uncontrollable fit of giggles._

_"What?" She asked as we shuffled closer to the cashier._

_I shook my head once, "Nothing, I just never thought that Beca Mitchell would be the first one in this relationship to bring up having kids."_

_I handed over my check card to the cashier, nodding a thank you as we walked away._

_"And who would have thought that Chloe Mitchell would be the one deflecting with humor," Beca muttered with a fond smile on her face._

_"I'm not deflecting!" I claimed, placing my tray down on a table and pulling out a chair. "How about this? I'll make us an appointment with Dr. Stein."_

_"Dr. Stein?" She asked, pointing an accusatory finger in my direction as she slid into her own seat, "I am __**not**__ getting any more shots."_

_"Relax, Dr. Stein is an OB. You know Sammy, you met her at the Christmas party last year," I reminded her. "I can set up an appointment with her and we can discuss it all."_

_She smiled at me, a wide grin that made her eyes twinkle in the dim cafeteria light. "I'd like that. But don't think this gets you off the hook for the whole tricking me into the doctor thing."_

_"Bec, you came to a hospital," I said, "If you were looking to avoid doctors, going to a hospital might not be the best start."_

_"Shut up and eat your Panini, Mitchell," she muttered, taking a bite of her sandwich._

XXXXXX

I was pulled from sleep by the sound of voices outside the door. It felt like not even five minutes had passed since I let my eyes slide shut. It was with great effort that I pried them open now.

Three and a half hours. I had been asleep for three and a half hours. Or so the clock on the wall told me. I peeked over at her vitals, noting that they had continued to trend minimally upward while I was asleep.

The voices outside the door grew louder before the door slid open and a figure entered the room. I stood up quickly, brushing off my scrubs and running a hand through my hair in an attempt to somewhat tame it.

"Chloe," the man uttered in acknowledgement before moving over to where Beca was laying, motionless.

"Benji," I replied, curtly.

One of his hands pressed to his mouth as he looked down at her. His eyes filled with tears, "I, um, tried to get in contact with her dad but he and Sheila are on sabbatical in Costa Rica."

"You didn't have to stay in here," he told me, pulling a chair over to sit down next to her.

"I wanted to," I said, "I didn't want her to be alone."

He bit out a shallow laugh, "You didn't have a problem with doing just that a year ago."

I bristled back at his reply, "Benji, I-"

"No, Chloe," he cut me off. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to play the role of the concerned wife now that she turned up in your hospital."

"I'm not trying to-" I tried to defend myself.

"I know, okay," he said, turning to face me and looking me in the eyes for the first time since he entered the room.

"You know what, Benji?" I asked him, my heart beating wildly in my chest. He couldn't possibly _know_, could he?

"You don't get to pretend you're concerned about her well-being after what you did," he icily stated.

Only the rhythmic beep and hum of the machines filled the air. I took a shallow breath and backed away from the room, uneasiness bubbling over with each step of separation. I did my best to ignore the familiarity of the situation.

**A/N: So… Thoughts? Don't give up on me yet, we've still got a long way to go! We're starting to get some more information here, bit by bit. The buildup is purposely slow, but know that I do have a plan for it all. Please take some time to leave a review in that pretty little box. Other than that, I'm sorry again for the late update! **


	5. Grounded

**A/N: Hey all, so the storms decided to knock out my power for the past four days. Beyond that, this a little late because I read through it once power was restored and wasn't too happy with some of the dialogue. To make up for it all, we've got a slightly longer chapter this time around.**

**Heads up for next week, I will not be posting this weekend because I'm going to be out of the country for a little bit and I had to tweak this chapter before starting the next one.**

**Anyways, I've gotten a couple of reviews asking if I just research the medical side of things or if I'm a medical student. Well, I research what I don't know but also fact check what I do. I'm currently an EMT and working on getting into medical school.**

**Enough with the chatter, here's chapter 5.**

**Chapter 5**

"Mitchell!"

I jolted awake, my head slamming down to the table in front of me.

"Shit!" I brought my hand to rub at my painfully throbbing forehead.

The chief of surgery came into my eye line.

"Sir," I cleared my throat, "Sorry, I must have just fallen asleep."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, taking on an authoritative stance in front of me.

"Hmm, of course, in the same manner you must have 'just fallen asleep' when I walked by two hours ago," he told me, the grin on his face informing me that he wasn't upset.

"Sorry, sir, it won't happen again," I replied quickly while straightening my posture. Wincing, I brought a hand up to tenderly massage the crick out of my neck.

It had been over a week since I had slept in my own bed and my body was making its dissent woefully apparent. What had started out as a caffeine headache now felt like someone had driven a stake in through one ear and out the other. My muscles ached in protest with every small movement I tried to make.

I was exhausted, but I couldn't bear to let myself sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I was there helping the paramedic pull the lifeless body of my wife from the back of the ambulance. Every time I closed my eyes she was dying in some other way. Sometimes it would be the femoral bleed reopening and I would have to watch as she bled out on the table. Other times the shock was too much and she was too far gone to come back.

I found it was easier to sleep in a short, disconnected pattern than to allow myself to fall further into the nightmare. My only redemption was having tangible proof that she was okay. And the only way I could have tangible proof was if I remained in the hospital.

So I hadn't left and I wasn't planning on leaving either.

I had done my best to steer clear of Beca's room since Benji had arrived. My best had led me to set up camp at a small desk at the back of a nearby nurse's station. Benji had hardly left her side since he first arrived. I wasn't interested in starting any arguments so I kept my distance. The nurse's station allowed me to monitor her vitals without actually entering her room.

"You know this hospital has these rooms that they built specifically so that doctors can get sleep while they're working," he spoke to me while fiddling around on his phone. "Last I checked you were a doctor at this hospital and you were quite familiar with the layout of said rooms."

"I was filling out paperwork," I scrambled, grabbing a random file from the desk's outbox.

He glanced up, pocketing his phone and gave me a skeptical look, "Right."

I read the title of the folder and cursed silently.

_Yearly Finances in Review_

Not exactly what I was going for.

"I know you're back on the schedule for tomorrow, but I removed your name," he spoke evenly.

My eyes shot up to him, my jaw swinging open to protest.

"You don't have a say in the manner," he cut in before I could say anything. "We need you at your best. And it's not as though you don't have plenty of vacation saved up."

"But-"

"We'll be fine," he cut me off. "We called Sanders back from the Keys and Davis has offered to be on call as needed."

I opened my mouth, once again, to argue, but this time I was cut off by the shrill ring of his cell phone. He took the phone out of his pocket, looking at the screen before telling me, "I have to take this. We can discuss matters again in a few days, Dr. Mitchell."

With the phone pressed to his ear, he walked away, nodding in acknowledgement to Aubrey as she walked by him on her way to the nurse's station.

"Shouldn't you be home right now?" I asked her as she propped herself up against the desk in front of me. "Your shift ended how long ago?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she retorted, pulling the observations I knew to be Beca's from the pile.

Aubrey had hardly left the hospital grounds since Beca had first been admitted. She was constantly hovering around the ICU and for that I was grateful.

It wasn't that I didn't trust my colleagues because I did. I knew there was no better team to care for a critical patient than the one from our hospital.

It was for purely selfish reasons that I rarely left the ICU floor. I couldn't bear the thought that something might happen and I wouldn't be there to help. Rationally, I knew the hospital was full of competent nurses and doctors but I had lost any semblance of rational around hour 72 of sleep deprivation.

Aubrey pulled an apple out of her pocket and offered it to me, "Your wife's O2 sats are up from yesterday, BP is up as well, and white blood cell count is within the normal range given the trauma. But I'm assuming you already knew that and more considering you've been trolling this particular nursing station all week."

I didn't reply, but took the apple from her hand.

"What did the chief want?" She asked me after a beat.

"He extended my grounding," I said referencing the chief's refusal to let me work since Beca had been brought in. I took a chomp of the apple.

"Can't say that I blame him," she admitted dryly. "When's the last time you strung more than two hours of sleep together?"

Rather than answer the question she already knew the answer to, I took another noisy bite of the apple.

"So that guy in there," Aubrey broached, her tone purposefully casual. "He hasn't left her side…"

She trailed off, trying to make me fill in the tail end of the sentence.

Aubrey Posen wasn't the kind of person that fished for information. She didn't have to seek information out, it normally came to her. The fact that she was inquiring in the first place was out of character.

She abandoned the attempt, choosing instead her seemingly default setting of direct, "Who is he?"

Now that was more like the Aubrey Posen I knew.

"He's her best friend," I informed her, turning the apple in my hands as I looked for the best spot to take my next bite.

"He told me he still couldn't get a hold of her father," I nodded, having overheard part of that conversation earlier. "Where exactly is her mother in all of this?" She asked, her pen scribbling something into the chart.

I took in a sharp inhale, not interested in having any discussion, let alone one about Beca's family.

Aubrey seemed to pick up on my hesitance and snapped the chart shut. "I'll let you know if anything changes, okay?"

"Thanks, Aubrey," I called after her but she was already too far away to hear me. She blended easily into the crowd of hospital personnel patrolling the halls.

XXXXXXXXXX

_"Sammy," I called after her retreating form. In her bright pink scrubs she was easily distinguishable from the masses of people. She stopped in place and turned on her heel to face me, "Do you have a second?"_

_"Of course," she said with a smile, "But we'll have to walk, I've got a soon to be mother in room 143 who's sitting around 9.5 centimeters dilated and 100% effaced."_

_I nodded, tucking my hands into my lab coat pockets and falling in step with her. A couple of steps later she asked me, "You need a consult for a patient?"_

_"No," I shook my head. It wasn't a daily occurrence that trauma and OB/GYN overlapped but it did happen on occasion. "I was actually wondering if I could make an appointment."_

_She gave me the once over while pressing the button for the elevator. The elevator doors swung open almost immediately._

_Magic touch, I suppose._

_"Please tell me you don't need me to look at something STD related," she said in exasperation, not bothering to lower her voice._

_I heard a judgmental huff from the elderly women behind us and was tempted to casually mention STD rates in nursing homes but chose instead to ignore them and let out a guffaw of my own, "I don't need an STD test. I'm happily married, do you really think I've been slutting it up on the side or something? I definitely do not have one of those," I added for good measure._

_"Good," she replied, shaking her head, "I swear the second you enter OB, friends, family, and even mere acquaintances are asking you to take a look at their junk. There are only so many times you can look at someone's puss-filled rash before losing all ability to look them in the eye."_

_The elevator doors pinged open and I followed as Sammy continued her brisk pace._

_"Well it's not about that," I laughed again, thankful my specialty didn't require me to gander over rashes in the nether regions daily. I'd take a gushing head wound over that any day. "My wife and I have been talking and we want to start a family. We just wanted to make sure that all is well before we start siphoning money into IVF treatments."_

_She barely adjusted her pace as we turned down another hallway, "Yeah, we can definitely do that. Have you decided who's going to carry your first kiddo?"_

_"We haven't exactly gotten that part down yet," I admitted, "Beca thinks I'd be 'better suited,'" I placed air quotes on the phrase, rolling my eyes, "But I think she'd be pretty adorable pregnant." I thought about it for a moment, a smile coming to my face before I added, "Never tell her that though otherwise she'll never go through with it."_

_Sammy let out a chuckle, "She doesn't seem the type to easily accept the descriptor 'adorable.'"_

_"No, adorable isn't really her thing," I remarked._

_"She probably should have grown a little more if that's the case," she noted._

_"That's what I've been telling her!" I exclaimed, focusing back in, "Anyways, I thought it might be smart for us both to get a health screening. Just to make sure everything is in working order. Maybe make our decision a little easier." _

_Sammy nodded, coming to a halt outside of room 143 and slipping on a clean gown from a bin next to it._

_"Oh," she began as though she had just remembered something, "You've got to let me do genetic profiles of you both!"_

_I rolled my eyes. _

_The hospital had just spent millions of dollars on a new genetic mapping machine. Genetic links to diseases were still being isolated although a decent database did exist and was constantly being added to. Ten years from now, the technology would be invaluable but for now there could be no definitive answers drawn from it, only hunches and speculation._

_Of course, that didn't stop every doctor in the hospital from trying to find a reason to use it. It was the hospital's shiny new toy everyone was dying to get their hands on. _

_You could take the nerd out of medical school but it simply wasn't possible to take the nerd out of the doctor, which probably is for the best all things considered. You certainly wouldn't want a doctor that refused to keep learning._

_"Please, please, please," she pleaded, putting her hands together and giving me puppy dog eyes._

_"Fine," I conceded. "Only because you look freaking ridiculous right now. What day works for you?"_

_She did a mini-fist pump before stating, "I tell you what, if all goes well on a scheduled c-section, I'm free around noon. Why don't you see if Beca can come in during her lunch and we can get a couple of blood panels started. We can find out which uterus, yours or hers, is better suited for pregnancy."_

_"Is there any way we could do it another day?" I asked her, watching as she tied a mask on. _

_A nurse cut over to where we were standing, "She's at 10 cm, Dr. Stein."_

_Sammy nodded and asked, "Are we prepped for delivery?"_

_The nurse replied with a quiet affirmative and entered the room._

_Sammy turned back to me as I finished my earlier statement, "Today's just… Today's not a good day."_

_"Yeah, no problem, Chloe," she waved me off from explaining further, "Just let me know a time that works for you. Now then, I've gotta go deliver this baby."_

_I thanked her and headed back over to the emergency department. I glanced at my watch on the way and let out a sigh when I noticed I still had fifteen minutes left of my shift._

_The worst part was that I wasn't even supposed to be working today. I had asked for the day off months ago yet the sudden surge of influenza had taken several of my colleagues captive and the chief of surgery had been unable to grant my request. I talked my way into getting the night shift so that I could at least spend the day at home. It did little to quell my anxiety._

_"Dr. Mitchell," I heard a voice call behind me. I turned around, noticing it was Dr. Franklin looking quite frazzled. He was an attending physician in the ER. "Building collapse over on Coleridge Street. We've got multiple casualties en route now. Some critical. We need an extra set of hands, can you stay?"_

_I shifted my weight back and forth. "Can you call Rogers? He should be in soon anyways. I really need to get home, David."_

_Dr. Franklin shot me a stressed look, his pager beeping as he replied, "Can you stay until he gets here? We're expecting multiple crush injuries and need a trauma surgeon to assess."_

_I looked down at my watch once again and let out an inaudible curse when I noticed it had kept moving forward. "Any other day I'd stay, but I've got to get home." His pager continued to beep. His eyes fell down to it, before back up to me. My own pager began to vibrate in my pocket. I exhaled in resignation, "I'll stay until Rogers shows up. You're going to want to page Anderson as well."_

_We walked toward the back doors that led to the ambulance drop-off. Sirens rang out in the distance and I knew there wasn't a chance that I would it home in time. It seemed that as soon as I so much as thought about going home, a major trauma would occur. The shift could be completely dead until I was on my way to the locker room to grab my things and suddenly a six car pile-up would roll in from the interstate._

_I snapped a pair of gloves on and wrapped a trauma gown around my torso, doing my best to push any distracting thoughts aside for the time being._

_It was, in fact, an hour and a half before things slowed down enough for me to leave. I hit traffic on my way home, arriving in our assigned slot in the apartment's underground parking lot much later than I was originally hoping. _

_Switching the car off, I hastily walked toward our apartment favoring the stairs over the elevator that had a habit of breaking down between the 3__rd__ and 4__th__ floor._

_I opened the apartment door to find Benji sitting at the kitchen island tapping away on his phone, his hand wrapped around a coffee cup. He was wearing neatly pressed grey pants and a crisp shirt paired with the tie that Beca and I had given him for Christmas._

_I gave him a small smile in greeting before asking, "How is she?"_

_He set his coffee down, giving me a shrug. "She woke up around six and walked to the office without so much as a word. I brought her a plate of breakfast but last I checked she didn't eat any of it. The only thing she's said all morning is that she wants to be alone. Is she always like this?"_

_I heard the faint sounds of a piano being played down the hall. Our apartment had a spare bedroom that was originally touted as an office when we toured. Upon moving in, we decided to convert it to a music room where Beca could work if needed or leisurely dink around on our mildly impressive collection of instruments. Beca was a bit of a musical savant capable of picking up any instrument in a couple of days while I was content with my ability to play piano and my limited knowledge of guitar. Music had always been a hobby to me but music to Beca was equivalent to breathing, she needed it to keep living._

_"Some years are worse than others," I divulged while setting my things down on the kitchen counter. "Thanks for being here for her, Benji. I didn't want her to wake up to an empty apartment." I sighed, "I wish I could have gotten off from the hospital earlier. I'm sorry if I made you late to work."_

_"It's no problem, Chloe," he smiled genuinely at me. "I'm glad I could help."_

_His eyes flicked to the clock above the stove before he stood up. "Can you tell her I'm just a phone call away if she needs anything?"_

_"Of course," I told, pulling my hair back into a messy bun._

_"Don't forget, the same goes for you," he shrugged into his suit coat and downed the rest of his coffee. "Anything you need, I'm only a phone call away."_

_"Thank you again, Benji."_

_He picked up his briefcase from the ground, pausing on his way out to kiss me on the cheek._

_Benji was the kind of friend anyone would kill to have. He and Beca were in the same orientation group at Barden. The two weren't exactly the most outgoing kids in the group and thus found themselves paired together by default for most of the partnered activities. It was a default pairing and lack of other options that began the friendship, but, despite their personality differences, they had built a strong relationship over the years._

_I waited for the door to shut completely before following the faint music to its source. Pushing the door open, I noticed the slight frame of my wife seemed even smaller where she sat in front of our piano. _

_I had learned that her choice of instrument was almost always indicative of her mood. Ukulele and banjo meant she was feeling playful. Bass guitar meant she was relaxed. Drums meant she needed to let off steam. Guitar was more difficult to pinpoint since it represented an array of emotions depending on the context. Her decision to play piano today told me nearly everything about how she was feeling even if she refused to tell me herself. I was hoping that wouldn't be the case._

_She continued to plunk around on the keys in no distinguishable pattern, not faltering as I took a seat next to her on the bench. My hand traced the area between her shoulder blades. I wasn't surprised to feel the tension there. I brought my lips gently down to her hairline._

_"I'm sorry I couldn't be here when you woke up," I muttered, pushing back some of her unruly hair only for it to fall back into place._

_It was evident that she hadn't bothered brushing it that morning. She was still wearing the clothes she slept in the night before. My eyes fell to her desk where the breakfast Benji made for her lay untouched._

_I felt her shoulder lift in a shrug before falling back down. Her eyes stayed locked on the piano keys._

_"Have you eaten anything today?" I asked her, already knowing the answer._

_"Not hungry," she murmured, her voice coarse yet hollow._

_"You should really eat," I told her in what I hoped didn't come off as a patronizing tone. "I can make you something. Or we can order out if you want."_

_She grunted in response, her hands moving lazily across the keys. _

_"I __**am **__sorry I couldn't get work off," I told her again._

_Her hands came quickly to a halt. _

_"It's fine," she mumbled before beginning to play again._

_"It's not," I countered. "I should have been here for you. It's just the flu hit and the chief is short on trauma surgeons since Harrison took the job in Toledo."_

_"It doesn't matter," she told me._

_"It __**does**__ matter," I shook my head because me not being here for her did matter._

_"Can you drop it?" She bit out, her apathetic manner disappearing. She shrugged my hand off her shoulders. "You shouldn't have to take off work in the first place. You shouldn't have to come home and babysit me every time this day comes around. Just go back to work, Chloe."_

_She put as much space between us as was possible without falling off the bench and returned her gaze to the piano keys._

_"I'm not going anywhere," I stated firmly, my arms crossing in front of my chest in defiance._

_"Get the hell out of here, Chloe," she spat out venomously. "I don't fucking want you here."_

_When I made no attempt to move from where I was, she stopped playing and slammed her hands down on the keys. She whipped around to face me, raising her voice, "What are you deaf now? Leave me the hell alone!"_

_"I'm not going anywhere," I repeated, my tone adamant. "You want to be alone then fine, be alone."_

_She gave me a hard look, rolling her eyes when she saw me still glued to my seat, "It's a little hard to be alone with you sitting right next to me." _

_I raised an eyebrow in her direction, trying to convey the message that that was in fact the point._

_She glared a glare that would probably send most people running for the hills, but I just sat back, taking an interest in my nails._

_From the corner of my eye, I watched as she leaned forward in defeat several moments later. The piano emitted a cacophony of sounds as her elbows fell heavily forward. Her shoulders began to shake as the first tears fell onto the ivory keys. It was only a moment later that sobs shook her whole body. _

_I reached an arm out, hesitantly bringing it around her heaving shoulders. She didn't resist as I guided her face to my chest, where I immediately felt her tears soak the crook of my neck. I hummed a simple tune, rocking her slightly side to side and rubbing her back comfortingly until her sobs quieted._

_"I'm sorry," her voice was muffled by the fabric of my shirt._

_I kissed the top of her head. "You don't have any reason to be."_

_"I do, though," she argued, pulling back to look at me with puffy, tear-stained eyes. "It's just pathetic."_

_"It's not-"_

_"No, Chloe, it is. It's been twelve years and I'm as much of a train wreck as I was when it first happened," her eyes flooded with tears once again. _

_"It doesn't matter how much time has passed, Bec," I brushed her tears away with my thumbs, holding her face close to mine. "You don't have to feel bad about missing her."_

_She gave me a watery smile, "I really miss her, Chloe." Sobs racked through her body once more. "I just wish she were here."_

_"I know," I soothed, "I know, Bec."_

_She pulled back again and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands before allowing them to move fluidly over the keys._

_"You know, I learned to read music before I learned to read," she commented in a gravelly voice. "I suppose it was kind of a testament to the power struggle my parents had over me. My dad, the English professor, would have had me reading Chaucer by age six if he had his way. But, my mom won that battle, easily. I just connected better with music, kind of like I connected better with my mom." _

_Her fingers flew across the keys. _

_"She was sick for two years before she passed," she breathed. "That's two years of chemo and radiation and hoping and praying that she would get better and then she was. She was in remission and everything seemed too perfect. And maybe it was… Maybe it was too perfect and that's why the cancer came back and why it spread and why near the end the only time she seemed at peace was when I played piano for her."_

_She took a deep inhale, letting the breath out audibly. _

_"Before she died, my mom told me the ones we love are never truly far from us. I didn't understand what she meant until I finally sat back down at the piano a month after her funeral. It was like she was sitting right next to me on that bench."_

_Notes filtered through the air, her concentration never wavering._

_"I can't do that to our kids," her voice came out in a whisper. "I watched her die and couldn't do a damn thing about it. It's been at the forefront of my mind since we first started discussing it all. I keep wondering what genes I might be passing onto our kids and… I don't know, Chloe, I just can't. Not if there's even a chance that I'm passing what my mother had onto our future children."_

_I moved closer to her on the bench, not stopping until our sides were pressed tightly together. She only spoke about her mother once a year. I should have realized the effect the proximity to the anniversary of her mother's death would have given our recent conversations. _

_"That's fine," I told her sincerely. "It doesn't matter to me if you carry our kids, if I carry our kids, if we adopt our kids, or if we hire a surrogate. It doesn't matter where our kids come from as long as they're __**our **__kids. And any kids under our care will be our kids."_

_Beca seemed to ponder my statement for a moment as she reached the more intricate part of the song._

_"Thanks, Chlo," she uttered softly, her voice almost swallowed whole by the music floating through the room._

_I kissed her temple, encouraging her to continue speaking. Her hands slowed to a halt._

_"I'm sorry for the breakdown," she mumbled, embarrassedly._

_"Like I said before, you've got no reason to be," I told her, "I'm here for you. Even when you want to be alone."_

_She smirked at me, "You mean especially when I want to be alone…"_

_I scoffed, "Only because I love you and refuse to let you go all turtle and hide in your shell." _

_"I like my shell," she exclaimed, the conversation taking a turn toward levity._

_"What do you say we go and order some Chinese?" I prompted, the tips of my fingers tracing the slant of her cheek bone._

_"Sure," her eyes drifted shut at my touch. _

XXXXXXXXXXX

My eyes snapped open at the sound of shuffling feet around me. I groaned, knowing that I must have fallen asleep again. If I kept this up, I would be known throughout the hospital as the surgeon who couldn't stay awake for five minutes.

Maybe I did need to seek out an on call room.

I surveyed the monitors in front of me. The call button was pushed on Beca's bed. I groggily squinted toward her door. Nurses were flocking in and out of the door.

It hardly made sense that three nurses would respond to a simple page. The call button in patient's rooms could be used for anything from fluffing a pillow to changing a bed pan.

Dr. Sheridan, a neurologist, shuffled through the opening.

Curiosity got the better of me as I edged closer to the room.

Aubrey emerged from Beca's room, a solemn look on her face.

"**You** were paged?" I asked, fear beginning to rise in my gut.

_If Aubrey received a page…_ But there were no alarms set off on the nursing station monitors.

"Is she okay?" I could barely get the words out. "She didn't develop an infection… or sepsis… or-"

"She's awake," she said with a hint of a smile.

**A/N: So…? Thoughts? Questions? Predictions? Comments? Anything really… Leave it in the box.**

**Sorry about this being so late, I feel awful but this whole mother nature thing kind of messed up my set schedule. Thank you to everyone who keeps reviewing, I really appreciate it! And thanks to everyone for reading.**

******Added note: I didn't want to give anyone a notification about this so I didn't post it as an additional chapter. I just wanted to give you all a heads up because you have been so great following and reading and reviewing this story. Recently there have been some things happening in real life that are going to keep me from updating this story until at least mid-August. I'm sorry for the delay and wanted to thank you all in advance for being understanding about it. I do fully intend to complete this story, I just need to get things back in control in real life before I can prioritize this.**


	6. Breaking Through

**A/N: Hey all! It's been ages, I know, but I was able to scrape the next chapter together for you all. Thank you so much for being patient with me! I won't drone on any more, here's the next chapter…**

**Chapter 6**

_"No, Mom," I tried to protest before her incessant chattering began again. I held the phone away from my ear, cringing as her voice pitched upward at my protest._

_Rolling my eyes, I trapped the phone between my shoulder and my ear standing on tiptoe so I could reach the bottle of wine still corked above the fridge. I barely contained my sigh as my mother barreled forward on the other end of the line._

_It was impossible to reason with her when she got like this. I would normally put her on speakerphone and fold laundry or clean whatever looked like it might need cleaning, offering an affirmative yes or of course occasionally until she would wind down. There wasn't much else to do._

_I reached into a drawer for the wine opener, struggling with it for a moment before the bottle was taken from my hands. I jumped slightly in surprise before relaxing as I recognized the body behind me. _

_Beca popped the cork with relative ease, arching a brow in question and tilting her head toward where the phone rest in my hand._

_'My mom,' I mouthed, eliciting a knowing smirk from my wife as she pulled four wine glasses down from the cupboard. She set one aside, pouring a fair four fingers full of liquid into it. She slid the glass into my hand, giving my fingers a light squeeze before she grabbed the three empty glasses and the bottle of wine. Gesturing toward the living room, she backpedaled slowly toward its opening._

_I held one finger up to let her know I would be there shortly to which she nodded and returned to the room two voices were trickling out from._

_I should have known better than to answer my mom's phone call when we had company over. However, I had been meaning to let her know that Beca and I weren't going to be making it back for the charity event she was hosting that upcoming weekend. Admittedly, I had been putting it off so when she called I decided to answer and get it over with._

_I swirled my wine in the glass, holding it by its stem before bringing the glass to my lips. I savored its taste, the smooth liquid calming me slightly._

_It wasn't enough for my mother that we had perfectly valid excuses by any standard. Beca was meant to spend the weekend in Seattle scouting the local talent at a small music festival. I had requested the weekend off months prior as soon as she had been given the assignment. _

_But none of that mattered to my mother. No, she took it upon herself to lecture me on the importance of family._

_It was eyeroll inducing enough to begin with. Clearly I had missed the meeting where this charity had become a member of my family. That coupled with the fact that I was intending to spend the weekend with my wife who was very much my family made her argument more than invalid. Not to mention that she had thrown the event together in a week and not informed us it was taking place until three days prior to its scheduled date. _

_That wasn't a good enough excuse either since according to my mother the event had been printed in the country club's newsletter as soon as it was planned. I had half a mind to tell her I wasn't aware that I was supposed to be keeping up to date with all the happenings at a country club that was currently an entire length of the country away from me._

_However, based on her response to my utterance of regret that we couldn't be attending, sarcastic remarks were more than likely not the best available route for now. There was simply no reasoning with Beatrice Beale when it came to black tie charity events. _

_"Mom- mom!" I finally cut in, having my fill of my mother's ranting for now. "I'm sorry Beca and I aren't going to be there this weekend but we've had this trip planned for months now."_

_I cut in before she could start talking again. "Now then, I've got to go. We have company over. I'll call you next week, I promise. Say hi to Dad for me. Yup, love you too."_

_I hung up the phone, trading it for the glass of wine on the counter and made my way into the living room._

_I smiled at the sight of my wife emphatically speaking as Benji and his girlfriend of half a year, Claire, listened intently. _

_Claire was finishing up her PhD in clinical psychology at UCLA. Her busy schedule combined with my hectic one made it difficult for all of us to get together regularly. Just about every three weeks we were normally able to set up dinner or lunch or sometimes even brunch. _

_I slipped onto the couch cushions next to Beca, who almost instinctively wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled me into her._

_"It just doesn't make any sense to me though," she said. "Maybe I'm missing something but that doesn't seem like it would happen in real life."_

_"What wouldn't happen in real life?" I asked, swirling my wind round in its glass before taking another sip._

_"We were just talking about that new book," Benji replied, "You know the supposed nonfiction one where all of these gruesome murders are taking place only for the police to find out that a dirty cop is paying and encouraging seemingly innocent people to commit murder."_

_"It sounds kind of like a Milgram Study to me," Claire stated easily from her spot beside Benji on the couch opposite us. "What will you do if an authority figure tells you to? Where is the line to cross?"_

_"Well, obviously murder is the line," Beca mused thoughtfully. "But I thought it was more about the money than the blatant abuse of authority. It seems like people will do absolutely anything for money these days."_

_"It's the same thing as that woman in Kentucky that allegedly left her family because a man paid her a million dollars to do just that," I chimed in. "I mean, who does that? Who would leave their family for money?"_

_Beca shook her head beside me, "The only reason I would leave you was if you let yourself go."_

_She tried and failed to suppress a smirk, biting out a laugh as I gave her a playful punch in the shoulder._

_"You jerk," I laughed in jest._

_"So you wouldn't leave me if I got fat?" She redirected, her eyebrow arched up to let me know that she wasn't being entirely serious._

_"No, Bec, how could you think that? Besides I'd never let you get to that point," I said, a smirk forming on my own lips._

_"And how exactly would you stop that from happening?" She asked, amusement dancing in her eyes._

_"I'd just make you exercise more," I replied simply._

_She shot a look to Benji who gave me a confused look back. "Erm, I don't know if you're aware, Chloe, but in all of our years of friendship I have seen Beca Mitchell exercise probably a total of ten times. And one of those was not by choice. It was either run or get stuck in the Chicago airport for eight hours."_

_"Oh I know that, but I also know there's one kind of exercise she doesn't mind," I finished my sentence with a suggestive wink, enjoying the way Beca's cheeks flushed with color. "I'd just keep seducing you until you got back down to a healthy weight."_

_I met Beca's gaze for a couple of seconds, finally breaking contact as I broke down laughing. Her own laughter and that of Claire and Benji's mixed with mine._

_"It does bring about an interesting question though," Claire ruminated, bringing us back to a more serious train of thought. "Everyone has to have that one thing in a relationship that they just couldn't forgive if it were to happen. Everyone has a curb, a cap, a ceiling that can be broken through and if it's broken through there's no way to fix it. Whatever relationship whether romantic or friendship can't be repaired._

_"Mine would probably be financial dishonesty. My dad filed for bankruptcy eight months before my mom found out." She paused, looking down for a moment, "It ruined us."_

_Benji reached for her hand, finding it and giving it a squeeze before speaking evenly, "Lies."_

_"Secrets," I added on. "I've seen so many families crumble under the weight of too many secrets."_

_The group nodded while seeking out Beca for her contribution._

_"I think anything that breaks down trust in a relationship," she commented, ending the sentence abruptly._

_"And what exactly falls under that category," Benji questioned curiously._

_I felt her shrug beside me, "A lot of things. Everything you just said could to a degree fit under its umbrella but some things more than others."_

_"Like what?" I couldn't help asking._

_"Cheating," she replied solemnly, "Cheating would be the one thing I couldn't forgive."_

_Her vehement reply hung in the air before Benji broke the silence, "How's the new album treating you Beca?"_

_She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes, replying, "It's going very well."_

XXXXXXX

"There's this funny thing about doors," I heard a voice beside me say. I turned, briefly taking in Jesse in his scrubs before facing forward again. "See, they look all solid and everything but then if you go up to them, you _can_ actually push them open. Now maybe I missed it but something tells me they open much better when you physically approach them rather than try to, I don't know, telepathically open them with your mind."

I kept my eyes trained forward, hoping he would get the hint to move on.

He didn't.

Instead, he planted his feet right beside mine and turned to face the door himself.

It had been six hours since she first woke up and I had hardly moved from the spot since that time. I caught bits and pieces of information from the various doctors and nurses that were floating in and out of the room but something was still eating at me.

According to their reports she was doing well. Her cognitive functions were on course and she seemed to be healing properly. She didn't have any major infections at the current time. Everything seemed to be going just fine.

However, it wasn't enough for me. I had been fighting the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach since Benji had first arrived. It wasn't enough for me to know that the doctors all thought she was recovering well. No, I needed to see it for myself. I needed to see _her _for myself.

I knew it was selfish. It would be for my own selfish purposes if I walked through that door frame. It was selfish to want to see if those blue eyes still held the same depth, to confirm that she was truly okay.

She didn't need to see me the same way that I needed to see her.

It wouldn't be fair to her. For all I knew, she didn't know I was there in the first place.

She had no way of knowing that of all the hospitals in the country she had unwittingly been transported to the one that her estranged wife worked in. She hadn't even known we were in the same town.

_It was easier this way_, I told myself. _It was easier to not become involved again._

It was easier for me to pack up every emotion I felt and stuff it into a small, tidy box when she wasn't there, when she was still on the opposite side of the country. But she was here. And regardless of how it had happened, I couldn't help wondering if not becoming involved was impossible from the start of it.

It had to happen in North Carolina. She had to be in _my _city. She had to be taken to _my _hospital during _my _shift.

I suppose luck hadn't been on my side from the beginning.

Jesse hummed a short tune beside me, drawing my attention.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I asked, intending to come off in a biting manner but failing as my words were trimmed in the exhaustion that seemed to constantly lurk beside me.

"Nah, I'm on break. Thought I'd stop by the ICU on my way back from the cafeteria," he said, lofting the sandwich and container of salad in his hand to show me.

I kept my eyes on the door, nodding slightly.

"You doing okay?" He asked, trying for nonchalance.

I shrugged, not sure if I even knew the answer to his question.

He began to whistle the same tune he had been humming. His whistle trailed off rather abruptly as his focus was diverted toward a new source. "Dr. Posen, might I say that you are looking positively radiant this fine evening."

"Oh shut it Swanson," she snapped, melting the cheesy grin right from his face. "Don't you have some bedpans to clean or something?"

"Nope, got them all cleaned earlier," he replied, recovering slightly with a boyish grin. "I'm on break."

"Well, go be on break somewhere else," she bit back. He handed her the salad in his hands before walking away without a word.

"You could be a little nicer to him, you know," I told her, watching as she appraised the salad in her hands. "He's not a bad guy."

"I know that. This is actually a decent looking salad, right dressing too," she muttered, before fixing back in on me. "But forgive me if I'm not too keen on taking relationship advice from the woman who's been trying to stare a hole through the door to her wife's room rather than walking the fifteen feet through it."

She had a good point.

"Are you planning on going in there anytime soon?" She asked.

"I don't know," I replied, shortly.

Aubrey pulled her phone from her pocket, checking it before slipping it back in. "You should just go in there," she suggested.

"I can't," I told her.

"Why not?"

I shook my head. "She probably doesn't even know I'm here. Even if she did, there's no way she would want to see me."

Aubrey sighed, tucking the container of salad under her arm. "Maybe that's true," she acknowledged, "But you're never going to find out on this side of the door."

Her pager went off, she pulled it out of her pocket before nodding toward the door, "Now's your chance. Looks like the best friend is on his way out."

I turned, seeing that Benji was indeed pulling on a coat and making his way in the opposite direction of her room.

I turned back to find Aubrey on her phone walking away.

Exhaling deeply, I took a single step toward the door.

XXXXXXX

_I shut the door behind me, taking the necessary steps to sit back on the couch._

_"I like Claire," I told Beca, watching as she picked up the empty wine glasses and bottle and brought them into the kitchen. "I think she's good for Benji."_

_She came back out and plopped down beside me. "Yeah, they're good together. Benji was telling me months before he met her how ready he is to settle down, the timing of it works."_

_I nodded, opening my arms as Beca wordlessly shifted so she was resting her head on my chest._

_"What bands are we scouting this weekend?" I asked her._

_"I've got the list in my office," she informed me, "A couple of up and comers and some already established groups looking for a new label."_

_I let my hand fall to trace mindless patterns on her back. She let out a hum of contentment._

_"It'll be good for us to get away," she yawned, stretching slightly before leaning back against me. "Did you hear back from Dr. Stein about anything yet?"_

_"Actually I did run into her today," I said, "She told me she had all the results from the testing and that we should set up an appointment soon to go over it all."_

_"Yeah?" She asked, a smile spreading across her lips._

_"Yeah," I confirmed._

_"Did she let slip any of the results?"_

_I shook my head. "I don't think she even had time to go over them yet. She's been covering for another OB that's ironically out on maternity leave."_

_"Hmmm, well it might work better if you could just grab her on a break then," she said, "I don't need to be there for those. Besides, I wouldn't have a clue what they meant anyways."_

_"As long as you're okay with that."_

_"I am," she nodded, her lips stretching in an awe induced smile, "We're really doing this, aren't we?"_

_I smiled, "We are."_

XXXXXX

I reached the door after several disjointed steps. Taking in its full weight, I pushed it open slowly.

The steady hum of the monitors greeted my ears. I took a deep breath, slightly relaxed as I separated the noise of the steady drip IV from the cardiac monitor. Its rhythmic beeping soothed me, the machines having more of a place in my life than anyone had since I had left the woman currently hooked up to them.

I closed my eyes, taking the time to gain some composure before I walked into the room. The curtain was drawn completely shut, yet another obstacle I was forced to drudge the courage up to push past.

I hadn't spoken to her in thirteen months. And here I was about to walk into her hospital room where she was cognizant. I nearly fled from the room at the thought.

_She's not going to want to see me._

And why would she? I had made my decision, now I had to live with the consequences. I had been living with the consequences. I'd be living with even more in a short period of time.

I contemplated stepping out once more before deciding to at least check in this once. If she didn't want me here after, then I'd leave.

_At least this time it would be her decision, _I thought to myself.

With a shaking hand, I grasped the curtain and slowly pulled it to one side. Each centimeter of movement gave me one centimeter more of eye line into the room. The monitors came into sight, followed by the IV pole, then the foot of the bed and finally the person who lay in it.

I let out a sigh of relief as I noticed her eyes were closed. An array of colors dwelled on her skin as her body had begun to undertake the necessary steps in the healing process. Her arm was still in a sling, held tightly to her body. The lacerations on her face were shiny, more than likely covered recently with Bacitracin. Her leg was in an immobilizer now, to help with the healing of the fracture. The real damage was internal. That healing would be slow and tiresome in the same way the physical therapy would be for the spinal injury that was presumed to have caused muscular damage and of course the damage to the leg.

She looked rough. Not much had changed since I had last seen her except now there wasn't a tube down her throat breathing for her.

I watched as her chest rose and fell of its own volition. It was a step in the right direction.

"I don't get it," A quiet, yet authoritative voice behind me sounded.

I spun around, not having noticed Benji enter the room until now. He held a cup of coffee in one hand and an expression of barely contained curiosity on his face.

"What are you trying to prove?" He asked.

"I just wanted to see how she was doing," I admitted, softly, not wanting to start an argument.

Benji stared me down, his brow furrowing before he replied, "That doesn't explain why you've been sat at the nursing station outside of her door ever since I got here."

I shifted my weight, playing with my hands anxiously.

"None of it makes any sense to me," he said, shrugging off his jacket. "Are you trying to save face at the hospital by playing the grieving wife?"

"No," I jumped in at his claim, indignantly denying it. "I wouldn't do that."

"You know, if it were a year and a half ago, maybe I'd believe that, but…" he gruffly stated, letting the tail end of the statement drift off.

_But it isn't. _

His unspoken words rang out. And he didn't have a single reason to trust me anymore. I had broken his trust when I broke Beca's.

_Lies, _he had said. Lies were the one thing that could ruin a relationship for him. And I had lied to him, whether he knew the full extent of it or not didn't change that fact.

"I haven't told her yet," he moved to sit down in the chair beside her bed.

"Told her what?" I ventured.

"That you're here, that you work at the hospital she's stuck in until they release her who knows when."

I nodded, already having considered the possibility of it.

"I just don't want to cause her any more pain," he said, leaning forward in the chair.

"Neither do I," I spoke in nearly a whisper.

He let out a short incredulous laugh before turning to face me, shaking his head. "I just don't get it. What are you trying to do here, Chloe?"

I opened my mouth to speak, keeping an eye on Beca expecting her to stir but her breathing pattern remained even as she continued to sleep, unaware of the conversation taking place beside her.

Benji cut in before I could think of any words to say. "If you don't want to cause her any pain, why'd you do it in the first place?" His eyes searched my face for the answer I couldn't provide.

"I didn't… I wasn't…" I began, choosing the truth over all else. "I never meant to hurt her. I only wanted what was best for her."

"What was best for her?!" His voice grew in volume. He gave me another incredulous look before shouting at me, "You should have thought about what was best for her _before_ you cheated!"

I shook my head at him, not knowing how else to move forward.

I had already made my decision. It had taken me months to come to the correct conclusion but I knew there was no going back.

Because once you broke through that ceiling there was no way to repair it.

"Chloe?" a groggy voice pulled me back to the present.

**A/N: So… I'm back. Kind of. And I left you with a not so nice ending to this chapter. Sort of.**

**We will have to see how this goes. I'm still completely slammed with things and I've got a new job which is only going to complicate matters. I will do my very best to update every two weeks or so but be warned there are no promises.**

**Please let me know what you think about the new chapter. We've still got a ways to go and we will have Beca POV for the next chapter now that she finally decided to wake up.**

**Things may get a little dicey as we move on but please stay with me, there is a planned out plot here just taking its own sweet time to get rolling.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	7. Nancy Drew

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I had a strugglefest writing this and then had some issues with my computer (yay technology) and it deleting windows office from my hard drive along with most of the files. Basically technology hates me and the feeling is entirely mutual. **

**Enough excuses, here's the next chapter. **

**Chapter 7**

**Beca POV**

_"I'm not having this conversation," she spoke into the open fridge, her hand on the door frame. Its light cast an eerie glow over the otherwise dark kitchen._

_"And why not?" I bit back, swinging my arms back in emphasis and knocking a glass from the kitchen island. It shattered at my feet, the sound reverberating about the apartment walls. I muttered a curse word under my breath, taking in the scattered pieces._

_Chloe shut the fridge door with more force than was necessary, turning to me. _

_"You're drunk," she sighed, stepping around the mess I had made to grab a broom from the cupboard. "I'm not having this conversation when you're drunk."_

_"Then when the hell __**are**__ we going to have this conversation?" I asked her, barely able to contain the anger that had built up inside of me. She crouched over the pile of glass, gathering it and then sweeping it into the dustpan. _

_I laughed bitterly, "It's not like you're here enough for us to have any sort of conversation, let alone an important one."_

_"Fine," she threw her hands up in defeat, dropping the dustpan down with a clatter and stepping back from the task for a moment. "You want to have this conversation, then fine, let's have this conversation, Beca. If you've got something to say, then here's your chance. Say it."_

_I tried to square my shoulders in her direction, failing to keep from teetering to one side. I overcorrected and connected my backside with the kitchen island with an oomph. _

_"Why don't you start by telling me where you've been?" I asked with the gusto I thought I had misplaced when I knocked the glass off the counter._

_A flicker of panic flashed across her features before she schooled them back._

_"I've been at the hospital," her voice strangely monotone._

_I shook my head, "Of course you have. That's why when I called there earlier they said you had the day off. In fact you've had the whole past week off."_

_"What are you checking up on me now?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her tone and body language practically screaming the word defensive._

_"Apparently for good reason," I slurred, the room beginning to spin in circles around me. I was suddenly regretting that last pull of whiskey. And the one before that. Maybe the three prior to that weren't the best idea either._

_ "So now you expect me to tell you every move I've made at work? Need me to tell you about every surgery I scrub in on too?" Her voice flared upwards, "I took some time off. How is that an issue?"_

_"It's an issue because you lied to me!" I shouted back at her, standing tall, my vision blacking out for a second from the sudden movement._

_"When?!"_

_"Just now! Or did you forget about that too?" I hounded. With difficulty I made eye contact and held it._

_Her gaze dropped to the ground beneath her feet. "I don't have to tell you my whereabouts every waking moment!"_

_I held up my left hand, "You see this?" I asked her, pointing towards the ring on my finger,_

_"I'm your wife," I stated firmly, "That means you're supposed to talk to me and tell me things... Like when you take a week off from work for no apparent reason."_

_"I'm your wife, Beca, not your lapdog," she snapped, "I'm allowed out on my own. I can even make my own decisions."_

_Tension crackled in the air, an intolerable silence dwelling there._

_"What's going on Chloe," I redirected, knowing that particular rung of conversation wasn't headed anywhere positive. "Please just talk to me," I begged._

_Why wouldn't she talk to me?_

_I had spent the night trying to find an answer in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. Benji had begrudgingly picked me up from the bar in the middle of the night because my wife hadn't answered her phone. _

_Just as she hadn't made it back in time for the dinner date we had planned that evening._

_Just as she hadn't found the time to call._

_Just as she hadn't found the time to call all week._

_She was in and out of the door each day of the week before I could so much as say hello._

_And then I had found out she had the week off from work._

_Why wouldn't she talk to me?_

_Whatever was going on was major and she wasn't giving me a single clue._

_My vision blurred and with a single blink of my eyes the tears rolled free._

_She sighed, taking a deep breath before taking a tentative step towards me. _

_"I'm sorry. I should have told you, I just needed a break."_

_Her tone was apologetic. Exhaustion flowed through each of the words she uttered. I took the time to look at her. _

_She looked tired, her eyes bloodshot and her hair ragged. Her week off didn't seem to have done her any good._

_The tears in my eyes were reflected in hers._

_How did we get here?_

_A sob broke free from the depths of my chest. I wasn't able to hold it back any longer._

_Everything seemed to hurt nowadays._

_"God, Chloe," I sobbed, "Please tell me what's going on."_

_She shook her head, tears falling from her eyes._

_"What's happening to us?" I rasped out, burying my face in my hands._

_She stepped forward without hesitation, carefully sidestepping the glass to wrap me in her arms. Her grip was painfully tight as though she were trying to physically remind me of her presence._

_I buried my face in her shoulder, the fabric there instantly stained wet by my tears._

_"I'm sorry," she replied, her own voice tearful. "I'm so sorry." _

_"What's happening to us, Chlo?" I whispered._

_"I don't know," came her reply, so quiet it was almost silent._

_I tried to take a deep breath._

_She tightened her grip further, cutting the breath from my lips._

_"Hey, loosen the grip. I'm not going anywhere," I whispered into her hair, her arms slackening slightly around me._

_"I know you aren't," she replied, her words suddenly hollow as we clung to each other._

XXXXXX

I tried to focus my eyes on the blurry outline at the foot of my bed.

_It couldn't be… _

My mind reasoned through the possibility of it actually being the name that had escaped my lips.

My eyes shot to Benji, his gaze flicking between where I lay and where the figure stood.

I struggled through the haze of the pain medicine and the confusion of what I had been informed was a week of unconsciousness.

It had to be an illusion or perhaps a delusion. I must be in some sort of drug dream. There was no other explanation. There was no other way to explain the presence in my life of the woman I hadn't seen in over a year. The resemblance was uncanny, but it was nearly impossible.

_Pull it together, Mitchell._

The figure gaped in my direction, opening then seemingly thinking better of it and closing her jaw.

I cleared my throat before trying for words again, "I'm sorry. I thought you…" My throat caught as I considered the unlikelihood that I would ever see _her _again. "I thought you were someone else."

My eyes dropped to the wires protruding from underneath the flimsy gown that covered my broken body.

As if it weren't bad enough, now I was going mad.

Perhaps going was a stretch seeing as my sanity had been firmly tested as of late.

In the past year, everything that I had once held to be concrete had dissolved beneath my very feet. I was left to wade through the aftermath undeniably alone in the venture.

There was a soft knock on the door, the woman who had introduced herself as my nurse popped her head in before she entered.

She smiled at me, her eyes lingering then on the figure in the room. She gave a cordial nod after some contemplation.

"I just wanted to let you know that it's our shift change so Theresa will be taking care of you for the rest of the night. Did you need anything before I go?" She asked, but my attention was on the other woman in the room.

I could see now that she was dressed in scrubs. She looked nervous. She had hardly moved so much as a muscle since my nurse had entered. Maybe she was new… and incredibly awkward.

Benji finally spoke for me, "I think we are okay for now, thank you."

"Okay, well press the call button if you need anything," my nurse spoke, backpedaling from the room. "Have a good night Beca," she nodded toward Benji, then to the woman in the room she added, "Dr. Mitchell."

My eyes shot to the only other body in the room. A faint blush adorned her cheeks. A click of the door signaled my nurse's departure from the room.

_Chloe._

It _was _her. I wasn't imagining it because if I was then so was my seemingly very sane nurse.

_What was she doing here?_

"What are you doing here?" Came tumbling out of my mouth, the pain meds or exhaustion the more than likely culprits for my lack of filter.

"I…" Her voice broke on the word and she cleared her throat while awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot. "I, erm… I uh… I work here," she settled on.

"Here?" I asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of my voice. I wasn't all too clear on where exactly here was but I knew it wasn't anywhere near home.

She stiffly nodded, averting her eyes.

So this was it, this was where she had run to.

_But why?_

"Why?" I found myself asking.

She shrugged uncomfortably reminding me every bit of our last interaction over a year ago.

XXXXX

_"Well explain it to me then," I shouted after her as she walked away from me._

_"I don't have to explain it to you," she defended, coolly._

_ I lofted the object in my hand toward her head. She caught sight of it from the corner of her eye, eyes widening as she ducked down in the nick of time to dodge it._

_"Jesus, Beca," she exclaimed, "What the hell was that for?"_

_She bent down to pick up the now shattered object, the briefest moment of recognition flickering across her features._

_I narrowed my eyes in her direction, further angered by her feigned indifference to the topic at hand._

_"Fine. If you can't explain where you were last night with your phone off then explain that," I said, having already been pushed past my point of no return._

_It had been months of secrecy and subterfuge and I was done. I wanted answers, not generalizations, not abrupt subject changes, but answers._

_"It's... It's..." She stuttered over her words._

_"Let me help you out here, __**Chlo**__," I bit out the nickname acridly, "That object in your hand is a cell phone, one that certainly isn't on our monthly bill and one that you've apparently been keeping in addition to your actual cell phone that you no longer have the mental capacity to answer!"_

_She stood, silent, turning the now broken phone over in her hands._

_I muttered under my breath, "I should have known. I mean one day you're all too keen on having a kid with me and the next you can barely make enough time to have dinner in the same apartment as me," she tilted her head at me, brow furrowing further as my thoughts continued to pour out of my mouth. "I mean, we haven't had sex in months… Which should have been my first warning sign but I guess I was just…"_

_I was just being naïve. It's funny how quickly what I had once considered to be trust devolved to become naïveté. _

_I was upset with Chloe but I was even more upset with myself._

_Through it all, "I should have known."_

_"Should have known what?" She asked, cutting me from my internal and projected dialogue._

_"How long?" I countered with a question of my own, letting my words linger in the air. _

_"How long, what?" She parroted back, confusion evident in her tone. "How long have I had the phone?"_

_I let out a bitter laugh, "No," I said incredulously. At least she wasn't trying to lie to me about the phone. Although I had clearly backed her into a wall with that one._

_What I couldn't understand was how she was trying to keep up this farce? She had to know it was over by now._

_"How long, what, Beca?" She repeated again as though she didn't know._

_When she didn't offer up any more suggestions I continued, "How long have you been cheating on me?"_

_"Beca, I…" But she trailed off._

_My blood ran cold as I finally admitted to myself what all of this had meant. I had my suspicions but had hoped they were wrong. They had to be wrong. I didn't let myself believe that they were right._

_But now…_

_I spoke as evenly as I could. "You can't even deny it, can you?"_

_Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened, her brows raised, but she hadn't denied it._

_There was a look of resignation on her face that confirmed my suspicions._

_She cheated. _

_She had cheated on me._

_She knew what it would do to me but she had done it anyways._

_And for only God knows how long._

_And with only God knows how many people._

_"I should have known," I shook my head, condemning myself once again._

_She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her eyes darting from left to right as if she would find an escape._

_"How long?" I struggled over the words. "I at least deserve to know that. We've been married for two years, together for five. You owe me that."_

_Her mouth opened only to shut several times, her eyes shining with unshed tears._

_The sight of those tears building fueled a rage inside of me. She didn't get to cry. She was at fault here, not me. I wasn't going to feel bad for her. She cheated, not me._

_"Beca, I—" She began, apologetically._

_I cut in, "Save it," suddenly changing my mind about having a discussion. "I can't do this right now."_

_My voice broke on the words. I was barely holding myself together. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me break down so I told her, "You should go."_

_"You should leave," My words came out nonchalantly, so different than the chaos and uncertainty that I felt inside._

_ "I need some space," I muttered, my eyes locked a scuff on the ground. "And I can't even look at you right now, so you should go." _

_She hesitated slightly before grabbing her keys and purse and walking toward the front door. She cast one final glance in my direction and I couldn't keep myself from searching her features for any guilt._

_I saw guilt, pain, sadness, and some unidentifiable emotion, momentarily puzzling me before she closed the door behind her._

XXXX

Each of the emotions remained etched into her eyes as though no time had passed.

But it had. And I wasn't willing to look past the last year and what she had done because she decided to visit me in the hospital she worked at.

_Would she have come if it were any place other than where she worked?_

I had tried to call her, text her, hell even email her before realizing the number was no longer in use.

She had deactivated her phone shortly after our argument, her half of the closet cleaned out when I returned from work one evening.

I had been desperate enough to call her family, her mother doing her very best to say she hadn't seen her. It was evident that wasn't true, but soon it became apparent she wasn't in contact with anyone.

She had fallen off the face of the earth in a matter of weeks.

I couldn't help wondering if she had ran off with whomever she was having the affair with. Maybe they were here too, in this hospital.

Just the thought was enough to turn my stomach.

I stared straight at her as she shifted, still blatantly uncomfortable.

My attention was diverted as the door opened and a tall woman in blue scrubs and a white lab coat walked in. Her eyes shot over to where Chloe was standing. She arched an eyebrow before turning to me.

"My name is Dr. Posen, I was the cardiothoracic surgeon on your case," she spoke in an educated and refined manner, "I thought I would stop by to check on your progress."

She unraveled her stethoscope from around her neck and placed the ends into her ears as she walked over to the bed.

Her eyes never left the monitor containing my vitals as she asked politely, "I'll just ask the two of you to leave the room for a couple of minutes so that I can conduct the exam."

Chloe was out the door in a flash, shooting a grateful look to the back of Dr. Posen's head. Benji stood slowly and followed suit, shooting me what was meant as a reassuring grin as he left.

Dr. Posen conducted her exam silently, only asking questions occasionally. She took notes on a half sheet of paper beside me, her eyes gazing at me curiously.

"When I was a kid, I loved to read. My favorite stories involved a character called Nancy Drew," she spoke, focus fixed on the half-sheet of paper in front of her. "It's a tad embarrassing to admit just how key a factor she was in my childhood. I was Nancy for five Halloweens straight before my parents were able to convince me to switch up the pattern."

"Is this a part of my exam?" I smartly retorted.

She set her pen down, fixing me with a glare that held me back from voicing any of the other quips I had on the tip of my tongue.

"I spent the majority of my childhood pretending I was some kind of detective. Even had my own detective kit complete with a notebook and a magnifying glass."

Dr. Posen's brow furrowed as she looked me over again. She shook her head.

"So what," I started, "Are you trying to use those detective skills to figure out how the great Dr. Mitchell could have been married to me?"

She snorted, breaking her professional aura slightly. "Here's what I know. She's been here for a year. In that year she's spent more time in this hospital than even I have, which is quite a feat. From what I know her routine rarely deviates from work, apartment, occasional stop at a mom and pop diner across the street, but never anywhere else."

She picked up the half sheet and folded it, holding it in her hand.

"I've known her for a year, considered her a friend for a little under that yet I've only been able to get her to do anything outside the hospital twice one of which was the company Christmas party so that hardly counts," she added, "It was always clear that she was hung up on somebody, but not a single one of us had any idea she was married until you were rolled in here half alive."

She paused.

"I'm not trying to figure out how she could have married you, I'm trying to figure out why she left you if she's obviously still in love with you."

Her honesty surprised me. I was expecting a professional response and instead got exactly what I had asked for.

"She doesn't love me," I corrected.

Dr. Posen stood to her full height, clicking her pen and placing it into her lab coat pocket. Her expression made it apparent that she didn't believe me.

"She cheated on me," I informed her, interested in how she would dispute that, "Did you happen to come across that in your investigation?"

The blonde doctor hardly blinked, poker face firmly in place. If she hadn't known about the cheating before, she didn't show it. "Don't you find it odd that a wife that supposedly cheats on you doesn't mess around with a single person since she came here? That she kept your name when she moved across the country for a fresh start?"

Her words puzzled me, my head throbbing as I tried to process them.

"She's probably ashamed by all of it," I concluded, dismissing her ponderings.

"Maybe," Dr. Posen drawled, "But if there's one thing I know it's that something isn't adding up. It doesn't take a detective to figure that out."

**A/N: How'd you like Beca's POV? **

**Just a note, the previous flashbacks were in somewhat chronological order and these ones jumped a bit into the future. I'd give better dates for them but honestly I hate deciding all of that so I'd rather leave it nice and vague.**

**Thank you all for sticking with me through all of this. I still can't give a definite outline for updating but hope to stick to around two weeks.**

**Please drop a review into the little box below if you have the time!**


	8. Small Moments

**A/N: **

**Sorry for the long wait for this one. I have been extremely busy and working nights really messes up my sleep pattern so that even on my days off it's hard to get on track and find time to write. **

**That being said, thank you all so much for your kind words and continued support of my story. I'm sorry this has been taking longer but I promise it really is going somewhere, slowly, but we are starting to pick up some speed here.**

**Chapter 8**

**Chloe POV**

I felt at home.

Probably the closest to home I was now capable of feeling.

I felt relaxed.

More relaxed than I had in weeks.

Breathing came easier, sterile air moving through my lungs as freely as it couldn't move before.

It felt like a burden had been lifted, a weight had been shaken free.

And even if it were only for a couple of hours, I rejoiced in the brief sanity I held here.

Some people spent thousands of dollars on weekend spa treatments, but this… For me, there would be nothing quite as liberating as this.

Outside of these four walls, I could barely hold myself together. But in this room I still had control.

It was six hundred square feet of freedom and it had never felt better.

"More suction, please," I directed, slipping easily back into the role of trauma surgeon.

The surgical intern across from me cleared the field before handing the Yankauer suction catheter to a nurse so she could take hold of the retractors.

My hands moved in a practiced manner that I hadn't realized exactly how much I missed. I spent nearly every day in the OR and was barred from it for the past week. It hadn't felt natural, not being here certainly didn't feel as right as I did at this moment.

"There we are," I said triumphantly, isolating the bleed in the abdominal aorta and removing a large clot that had formed there. I placed the clot into the metal bowl offered by a scrub nurse. My hands returned to the open abdomen, my fingers quickly identifying something that didn't belong, "And there's a fragment of the bullet."

The metal piece clanged loudly into the bottom of the bowl. I began to place the necessary stitches to repair the damage as I heard the door to the OR swung softly on its hinges.

"Dr. Yates, how can we tell that there is more damage than that to the aorta?" I prompted, the intern's eyes widening drastically at my question.

Glad to see Dr. Sanders had maintained his entirely apathetic approach of teaching while I was on my forced mini sabbatical.

"Erm, I, we," she stuttered, eyes moving quickly from side to side as though she would find the answer there.

I was a moment more away from saving her from her suffering when another voice piped in, "Because her vitals are in the shitter still and you only pulled out half a bullet. Plus the X-ray to your left shows two fragments, not one."

My eyes swept up briefly, taking in my best friend stood firmly in the corner with her arms crossed in front of her chest, dressed in a scrub cap and surgical gown tied open in the front.

My cheeks burned, color rising to them as I returned to my work, shifting through to try and find the remaining bullet fragment. The X-ray was of little use because of the bleeding and even upon positioning the patient might have dislodged it from where it was held.

I had done everything in my power to establish myself at this hospital as a top tier surgeon. Being a top tier surgeon meant exemplifying a specific persona. Top tier surgeons weren't meant to have their personal lives splayed all over the hospital but I hadn't had a choice in that matter. Now nurses and the doctors and even Aubrey had witnessed me deteriorate to some mute in that ICU room. I had broken down more times than I thought possible.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be easier. I was supposed to be better here. I was supposed to be able to hold myself together here, but everything was falling apart.

My attention barely wavered as I spoke confidently, "Can't you find your own patient, Posen? This _is _America, I think if you listen close enough you can actually _hear_ arteries clogging with plaque."

This was my OR and nothing about what was happening outside of it was going to take away the power that I held here. Not Aubrey Posen and definitely not my wife who was resting in a bed in this hospital.

She shrugged.

"I'd much rather figure out exactly who you had to bribe to get back in the OR, thought the Chief benched you," came her reply, before she added, "He _does_ know you're here, doesn't he?"

I rolled my eyes, giving her an unimpressed look.

"That man knows when so much as a light bulb burns out in this hospital, of course he knows when a surgeon is operating in one of his operating rooms."

Light bounced off a hint of metal, "There's the second fragment," I whispered to myself.

I grasped the bullet, placing it beside its brother in the metal pan. A nurse took the tray swiftly from the OR, bagging the material as evidence for the impending police investigation.

"That doesn't explain how you landed this surgery. What resident did you steal it from?" She asked, approval in her words as though she were congratulating me on the feat.

"I didn't steal it from anyone," I asserted, taking note of the full scale of damage the second fragment had caused to the pancreas. "Sanders had a family emergency and this is a Tier I trauma. The Chief wasn't going to hand it off to some resident."

The woman on the table had been wheeled in after losing copious amounts of blood on the scene. According to the medics, she was a victim of a stray bullet from a drive-by. The presumed targets of the attack were found to be dead on arrival. She had a bag full of books at her side. A student simply returning from night class in the wrong place.

"I thought Davis was on call."

"By the time Davis got here, got up to speed, and scrubbed in, this patient would have been dead several times over based on internal bleeding alone," I spoke evenly, placing a clamp to control the second bleed.

"Yates," I tried redirecting the conversation back to the task at hand, "What do we repair first? The artery or the damage to the pancreas?"

"The artery otherwise there won't be time to repair the pancreas, the patient will bleed out before you can get to the pancreas. The quick stitches you placed are temporary and the pressure blood pumping through the artery will eventually break through," Aubrey broke in.

"You gonna let my intern answer a question, Posen?" I raised a brow in her direction.

"I'm just saving some time, it'd take your intern a solid five minutes of stuttering to get anywhere near the answer," Aubrey muttered, never being one for tact. "The way I see it, we've only got an hour or so left of the surgery and I've got some questions of my own I need answered."

"Did I miss the part where this became a murder mystery?" I sarcastically bit out.

"Stop deflecting, Mitchell," Aubrey countered.

"Sorry, Agatha Christie, do continue," I muttered, beginning to place a graft over the rupture in the artery.

"I'll take your sass as a sign that I should continue," she replied.

"Or you could take the part where I said to continue as a sign to continue," I stated, "You've been spending too much time around Jesse, it's like his lack of maturity was the dressing on the salad he gave you."

She ignored me, "What made you leave LA?"

I narrowed my eyes, "What happened to your whole 'when you're ready, you can come to me' act?"

The fact that such a phrase had even come out of Aubrey Posen's mouth without an ounce of irony in the first place was almost as absurd as my estranged wife being wheeled into the ER when I was the trauma attending on staff.

"I got tired of waiting. Back to what I was saying, because the cheating does seem like an easy scapegoat," I paused for a moment, the eyes of the intern across from me and every other person in the room causing color to rise to my cheeks once again, "But something about that whole endeavor seems a little off to me so I don't think that's it."

"Posen," I warned, in a low tone. This OR was the only place I felt whole and it seemed as though she were doing her very best to change that.

Aubrey continued undeterred, "I got to thinking, what would make someone leave their whole life behind? What would make someone leave behind the person they're in love with? And I only came up with a few answers which is surprising because I'm actually quite the researcher, hence the Ph. D stitched next to the MD on my lab coat."

She looked smug, even with her face half covered by a surgical mask.

"Of course a good scientist can't support any theorem in good conscience without scientific proof and evidence to back it. So, I've been wondering, do you have a gambling problem?"

I scoffed audibly, the noise muffled by the mask covering my mouth.

"No gambling problem then," Aubrey noted, "Alcohol, drugs? Realistically neither," she answered her own question, "I mean you're too good of a surgeon and spend too much time here to get away with either of those. Plus there's the drug test they make new hire staff take."

I finished placing the graft, unclamping the artery and letting out a small smile when it held without leaks.

_Still got it_, I congratulated myself silently before I moved deftly to the second bleed.

"I suppose the next likely culprit is one that's been messing with people since biblical times: family," Aubrey mused.

I flinched. It was infinitesimal, barely noticeable but of course Aubrey Posen noticed.

_"You knew," I raged, "You knew this whole damn time and you, just, you, you-"_

_I was irate. The logical side of me was trying to calmly suggest that I quietly leave, but it was easily drowned out by the much angrier, louder part of me that was currently demanding answers. Or at least trying to._

_ "Chloe," she tried to mollify me, her voice calm and soothing when to me it was anything but. "You need to calm down, it's not like that."_

_"Do __**not **__tell me to calm down," I cut in, "And it's not like what, Mom? Were you just never going to tell me? Let me figure out on my own then? You're unbelievable!"_

_She rolled her eyes, dismissively looking at her nails. She was acting like nothing was happening. She could at least look the slightest bit guilty._

_"It's not like you've just been keeping this from me my entire life, you've also been keeping it from Dad. How could you even…" I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence._

_I stared her down instead, looking but unable to see anything but the lies that she had told me. I couldn't look at her and see the woman who used to pack extra brownies in my school lunches on Thursday to get me through to Friday. I couldn't look at her and see the woman who held me as I cried after my first breakup. I couldn't see any of that, all I could see were the secrets and lies that my entire life had been built upon._

_"Who are you?" I choked on the words, because this woman wasn't my mother, not anymore. Tears began rolling down my cheeks at her betrayal. Because that's what this was, this was betrayal in its purest form._

_The woman who shaped my very view of the world had thrown it entirely from its axis. It didn't seem fair that she remained standing in one place as I spun hopelessly out of control._

"Family," I could practically see the smirk behind her surgical mask. "Really?"

Only the sounds of oxygen flowing and the beeping of various machines filled the air. I snapped back to attention, rechecking the first graft I had placed.

"I never knew you were so interested in Psych, Posen, maybe you missed your true calling," I muttered, "Wouldn't this conversation be better suited for some stuffy office with a plush couch?"

"I believe this conversation is suited perfectly for this environment since it's the only place you can't walk away. You can't exactly leave a patient open on the table, can you?"

My brow furrowed, but I said nothing.

"So what? Did you find out your perfect family wasn't so perfect? Did you find out about some deep family secret? Embezzlement, lying, scandal?"

"Why don't you get the hell out of my OR, Posen," I snapped.

"Touch a nerve, did I?" She replied, unaffected by the venom in my voice. "You think I don't understand family problems? You know all about how _accepting_," she laughed bitterly at the word, "my family is. I get it, I understand, family sucks."

"You don't get anything," I cut in, barely able to keep myself from overreacting. "You don't know a damn thing about me or my family."

She held her hands up in defeat and silently stepped out of the OR.

I took a deep breath, noticing only now that my hands were shaking slightly. I closed my eyes briefly, opening them before asking, "Yates, how do we identify necrotic tissue from healthy tissue?"

XXXXXXX

_"Chloe," I turned to be greeted with the pink scrubs of Sammy Stein. Her face held a look of seriousness the peppy OBGYN rarely sported._

_"Hey Sam," I smiled despite her expression. "Are we still on for the appointment next week?"_

_She looked at me for a moment, shifting the weight between her feet before opening her mouth and then closing it promptly. She even checked her pager, turning it over in her hand rather than look me in the eye._

_I gave her a curious look, "What is it?"_

_"It's- It's probably nothing," she started, her face saying anything but._

_I frowned at her none too convincing dismissal, "It doesn't seem like nothing."_

_"Well," she began, "It's just… I-"_

_"What is it, Sam? Do you have a patient you need me to look at?"_

_"No," she replied instantly. "It's not that."_

_"Then what is it?" I asked her, "Did something pop up on one of the tests or something? Are my hormone levels all screwed up or-"_

_"No, no," she cut it much too quickly. "It's nothing like that. It's just…"_

_"Spit it out, Stein."_

_"It's…" She finally brought her eyes up to meet mine, "Can you spare ten minutes?"_

_I glanced down at my watch before back to her, "Yeah, I'm on lunch for the next thirty."_

_She fidgeted with the watch around her wrist, "We can discuss in my office, if that's okay?"_

_I nodded, allowing her to usher me down the hall._

XXXXXX

"Dr. Mitchell," I turned to the source of the voice, straightening my posture when I recognized its owner.

"Hello Chief," I greeted.

"What's this I hear about a confrontation between you and Dr. Posen in an OR room?" He asked.

Like I had said earlier, he knew everything that took place under this hospital's roof.

"Dr. Posen merely overstepped her bounds on a personal matter, I corrected her," I replied.

"I would prefer if you kept your personal matters out of my OR," he reprimanded before lightening, "That being said, I want to make certain you know that you can take as much time away from work as you need to…"

"Sir, with all due respect, there's no place I'd rather be than in an OR right now," I spoke honestly, only a slight twinge telling me that what I had said wasn't entirely true.

XXXXXXX

_My keys jingled together as I juggled the mail in one hand while halfheartedly trying to push the door to our apartment open._

_It swung open, its handle bouncing off the wall behind it with a quiet thud._

_Only several steps inside the door my feet came to a halt seemingly of their own volition._

_I let my eyes take in the familiarity of the apartment Beca and I moved into shortly after our wedding._

_It was shocking to me, shocking that although so much had changed outside the walls of this apartment, here everything had stayed the same._

_The neutral colored walls stood in place, a testament to our inability to make decisions regarding the proper color. We had petty arguments of which color would best suit the room. After it became apparent that we weren't going to agree, we decided leaving it the color it was when we moved in was probably the least confrontational way to go._

_Several feet in front of me sat what could arguably be the most uncomfortable couch in the history of couches in front of a meager flatscreen TV. The couch, Beca had argued, was an antique. Really it was a couch my uncle was going to toss out around the time we were going to begin shopping for one. If there was one thing Beca Mitchell hated more than fancy charity events it was furniture shopping. _

_It had taken us a month to pick out a dresser and stools for the kitchen because she kept dodging me every time we had set aside to shop._

_The small kitchen could very well have been used minutes ago for how it looked. There was a half empty mug of coffee on the counter and the bowl that Beca had used to eat cereal what seemed to be a lifetime ago still rest in the sink waiting patiently to be cleaned._

_The apartment was tidy and I was almost disappointed by that fact. I'm not sure what I was expecting. Perhaps I was expecting it to have devolved in my absence much as I had been wasting away these last few hours._

_"Chlo?" I heard Beca's voice call from our bedroom, "Is that you?"_

_I blinked once and looked up to see my wife approaching, a genuine smile on her features._

_"You'll never guess who I'm going to be working with," she said, nearly bounding over to me in her excitement. Giving me a quick peck on the lips, she pulled back, her expression dropping at what she found there._

_"What's wrong?" She asked, a frown overtaking her features although there was a spark still present in her eyes. Her navy eyes reflected back all the emotions she was feeling: concern, confusion, anxiety and all its cousins._

_Could I do it? Could I be the reason that that spark fades? Could I be the one to smother her happiness?_

_I shook my head._

_No. The answer was no._

_"Nothing, just a rough day at work," I replied, averting my eyes._

_Beca raised an eyebrow. She knew the horrors I all too often bore witness to at work. There were times I would want to talk but more often than not I would much rather sit next to her on the couch and watch trashy TV._

_She had to know, though, that this was different._

_I felt as though she could see right through me, right through my dismissal of a topic that would ultimately affect both of our lives in more ways than one._

_But she didn't press the matter any further._

_She did, however, pull me over to the couch and wordlessly offer her arms open._

_I didn't deny myself the comfort I found there. Not now, now I needed every comfort I could find._

_I had to do this on my own. I had to tackle this all on my own._

_But for now, I could lay here. For now I would lay here and listen to my wife gush about the new artist's album she would be producing._

_For now, I would place all of the questions I had aside and live in these small moments. Because these small moments were everything I had to live for._

**A/N: **

**There's chapter 8. Please leave a comment in the little box below. Any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated. Predictions are welcome as always.**

**I can't give a definite date for the next update and I know that's probably frustrating but know that I am doing my very best to get this story written with chapters with a little meat to them so it takes a bit to pen it out and edit it all.**

**Until next time, enjoy the rest of your weekend!**


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